Baby Fever
by Katia2015
Summary: Set two years in the future, Mary Margaret and Emma find themselves pregnant at the same time. How will they both deal with the upcoming arrivals and their loved ones?
1. Chapter 1

Set about two years in the future, this story follows Emma and Mary Margaret's adventures into motherhood again.

Disclaimer: I own nothing.

The short raps at the door startled the tall blonde woman from her work, her bright eyes narrowing as she tried to think who it could be that was stopping by without calling first. Dropping the stack of linens that she had been readying for the hallway closet of the new apartment, she stood and hurried to the thick wooden door. Her steps were quick as she darted around half-empty boxes and various items that she had yet to find a proper home.

"Coming," she called out when the sound of the fist on the door came again. "Be right there."

As she pulled open the door a middle aged man smiled at her and held a brown parcel out toward her gingerly. "Delivery for Killian and Emma Jones," he said, looking down at his clipboard. "Sign for it?"

Emma grinned and tried to balance both the package and the creased paper she was signing with her married name for probably only the seventh time since their wedding a few weeks ago. "Thank you," she said as the man pulled the clipboard away and headed down the metal stairs toward the parking lot.

She only stayed in the doorway a moment, regarding the cloudy sky and the sharp wind that had blown in during the latest storm threat. She was glad that they had finally finished unloading the truck and carrying in all the furniture, boxes, and as sundry items that now made up the contents of the apartment.

It had technically been three months since they took possession of the apartment, but other than a bed and a few kitchen items, they had not had time to actually move into the space. There had been the wedding to plan, the honeymoon to enjoy, and a work schedule that had left Emma too exhausted and annoyed to worry about decorating.

"Was someone at the door, love?" her husband asked as he emerged from the second bedroom. His one hand was holding a curtain rod that she had wanted hung for her son's benefit. She'd said she could do it, but he'd insisted that even one handed he could do the job. Close to an hour later he was still holding the rod and there was no curtain in sight.

"Delivery," she said, holding up the box. While she was not much for the attention that had been lavished upon her with showers and wedding parties, she did love presents. There was a childlike glow about her when she opened the stiff wrapping paper or dug into a decorative bag for some sort of surprise.

Leaning the rod against the wall, Killian joined his wife on the couch and admired the silver wrapping paper inside the brown parcel. With a grin, Emma tore into the paper and pushed it back to reveal what appeared to Killian to be a kitchen gadget of some sort. "Who sent us that thing?" he asked, trying to read the box's contents over her shoulder.

"Mrs. Pratt," Emma said, placing the food processor on the table in front of them and tossing the packaging to the side. "She lived next door to me in Boston and always said she was going to teach me to cook one day." Running her finger over the glossy packaging that talked about the various settings and uses for the device, Emma shook her head. "She overestimated by skill level."

"It is a nice gesture," he said, dropping a kiss against her cheek. "I believe you underestimate the number of people who care about you." It had been a long standing debate between them since he had proposed a few months ago. She had sworn that they could probably hold the wedding in her parents' living room for the lack of support they would get from the town's residents. Just the opposite had turned out to be true. The wedding and its preceding events had been the talk of Storybrooke, Maine. Everyone had wanted an invitation. Presents had arrived daily for weeks before the actual event and people still shouted out their congratulations to the couple whenever they went out in public. Even random text messages including photos of the wedding were still circulating.

"She was a good neighbor," Emma said, leaning back on the green sofa. Her eyes flashed about the room. "We're never going to get through all this stuff, you know?"

Killian's chuckle was loud as it bounced off the undecorated walls. "Perhaps we should have taken your mother's advice to have the dwarfs come to help us. They do seem to work well together." His bad arm wound over her shoulders and pulled her closer to him. "Or we could give up."

"A pirate captain surrendering?" she teased, slapping at his chest playfully. "You're going soft."

His hand came to her side and flicked at her to make her laugh from the ticklish movement. "You don't want to challenge me on that, darling. I think I could make you surrender far before me." His blue eyes darkened as she pushed back at him, his body towering over her as she slid onto her back and tried to catch her breath.

"That's not fair," she squealed as he continued the assault. Even with one hand he was overpowering her easily as she gasped for air under his ticklish attack. His breath was hot against her and she could feel his own laughter with her hands braced on his chest. "You….Fine…I give…"

He reared his head back to look down into her eyes, studying the sincerity of her admitted defeat. "So quickly?" he asked. "I thought you'd put up more of a fight."

She pouted a bit, but with her arms now looped over his shoulders instead, she was still not making a move to sit up. "You're not fair," she protested. "I can't help being ticklish."

He grinned brightly before dipping his head to brush his lips against hers. "That might be one of things I love about you," he said before kissing her a bit more urgently. "One of many."

"Is there a list?" Emma asked when he pulled back. "A long one, I hope."

"Aye," he said. "Grows longer every day."

***AAA***

Neal Nolan's face was streaked with tears as his mother, Mary Margaret attempted to carry him and a bag from pharmacy into the loft. His crying was not a new thing, as he had been throwing tantrums daily for a few weeks whenever something did not go his way. The loft felt hot to her as she pushed open the door and her face flushed at the exertion and temperature.

The blonde haired toddler waved one first through the air and gripped his mother's damp shirt with the other as he wailed inconsolably at the injustice of her insistence upon a nap. "No nap!" he cried out as she kicked the door shut behind them. "No nap!"

Mary Margaret was a patient woman, sometimes to a fault. She loved her job as mayor and loved motherhood even more, but after two and a half years of life balancing the two she was ready for a vacation. She knew she should be grateful, as she had a loving and supportive husband who did more than his fair share of the heavy lifting. David Nolan was constantly arranging carpools with the other parents, changing diapers, instilling potty training schedules, and insisting that his wife get a night or two away from the drudgery of parenthood.

As she lowered her son to his bed, trying to catch his kicking feet to remove the small sneakers, she reminded herself that she had wanted this. She wanted children and to be a mother more than anything. She'd had the opportunity once with Emma, but that had been lost in the curse and never fully regained when their 28 year old daughter had returned to their lives in Storybrooke.

"Sweetie," she pleaded as her son's wet cheeks turned crimson with anger. "Please stop fighting me." She felt horrible to be pleading with a toddler for a few moments of quiet and sanity, a foolish move in what felt like a constant power struggle. The toddler paused for a moment like he was considering her request and then launched a shoe foot back at her with a resounding denial.

She'd read all the books on parenting in the town's library, some of them more than once. Emma had helped her look up techniques and suggestions on the Internet. Even the mommy group she belonged to threw out opinions and recommendations on everything from finicky eating habits to assuaging fears of the dark. She should be equipped and ready for this, but she felt woefully so unprepared sometimes that she considered throwing her own tantrum right next to her son.

Backing away from the bed, she cringed as his chubby hands grabbed for her and came up empty. Her heart felt torn with the sight of him wanting for anything that she was denying him. But the books said this was necessary. Her feet stumbled as she cleared the doorway and pulled the door shut to the sound of his yowls for reprieve from his afternoon nap. Over and over she repeated to herself that he was not hurt or in any real distress.

Her phone ringing startled her as she lowered herself to the top step. Pulling it out of her pocket, she looked down at the smiling picture of her daughter. "Emma," she said, hoping that her overly perceptive daughter did not hear the frustration and anguish in her voice.

"Is everything alright?" Emma asked immediately. Of course she could hear the wavering quality of her mother's voice and the muted screams of her brother.

"It's just nap time drama," Mary Margaret answered. "Where are you? I thought you were working at the apartment today."

"We are," Emma said. "I just thought I'd check in and see how things were there. Also wanted to know if you and Dad wanted to grab a bite one night this week."

Mary Margret's stomach lurched at the thought of food, which was odd for her. She loved food and actually had spent much of her time in Storybrooke learning more about the culinary arts. She had not actual career plans for it, but had found that she enjoyed the process more than anything. "That's a good idea," she said to her daughter slowly. "I'll check with David."

"Are you alright?" Emma asked. "Is it that stupid stomach bug that's going around? I swear everyone's got it."

"I suppose," Mary Margaret said, her hand cradling her forehead. "Nothing that a few hours of sleep wouldn't cure."

Emma laughed. "I can imagine. Killian's picking up some lunch for us at Granny's right now. I could have him swing by with something for you."

"No, thank you though," Mary Margaret said. "I should probably stay away from grease and fat. I don't think my stomach could take it."

Emma made her mother promise to call if anything was needed, telling her that she would gladly babysit her baby brother any time that was needed. Being married to one sheriff and the mother of another one, she was well used to being cared for and protected. Still, Mary Margaret was a tough woman in her own right. She pulled herself up to a standing position and smiled as she realized that her son's cries were no longer audible.

Using the time she had been granted, she picked up a few of the items around the loft and then lowered herself to the bed she shared with her husband. Baby monitor next to her, she drifted off with the hope that she would feel better in the morning.


	2. Chapter 2

**_Note: I laughed at the scene of Emma stealing the Poptarts so I tried to recreate that a bit here. She was just so adorably awkward that I couldn't resist. _**

Magic was not something that ever felt that natural to Emma, even if she was born with the abilities that had made quite a few people marvel. Eyes closed, she concentrated on her ability and tried to feel that familiar warmness that surged through her body before her magic took hold, but there was no warm sensation. Instead she felt as though the room was spinning and for the third time that day she questioned why her stomach was lurching and her breakfast was threatening to make a repeat performance.

The thin parchment practically disintegrated in her hands as she delicately clutched the spell that Regina had suggested she study that day. The words were foreign to her, but Regina had spelled them out on a piece of paper in a phonetic fashion so that she might sound them out properly. Expelling another puff of air from her lungs, Emma closed her eyes and tried to envision a ring of protective light around her, but it was no use.

"That's not quite it, Mom," Henry said, crunching down on a carrot stick that he had been snacking on that early afternoon. "I think it's supposed to do something."

"Thanks for the advice," Emma told him, frowning back at the parchment. "Regina gave this to me, but I haven't been able to make it work yet."

"She gave you homework?" Henry asked, laughing that his mother looked so angrily perturbed at the idea of homework.

She dropped the parchment onto a pile of similar papers on the kitchen table and places her hands on her hips. "I don't have time for this," she told him. "I give up. Tell Regina I gave up." She looked at the clock on the microwave and frowned. "I'm meeting your grandmother for lunch and a shopping trip. Want to join us or are you okay here?" It was only a half day of school because of some sort of training seminar for the teachers.

"I've got a hot date with a video game and maybe some friends later," Henry announced, throwing himself backwards over the couch and waving an arm to her. "Have fun."

Emma rolled her eyes at him. "Try and do some of your own homework and blink or something. Your eyes will fall out of your head if you stare at that screen too long." She grabbed the jacket that she had tossed over the back of a chair and the list of items that Killian had requested from under the magnet on the refrigerator before rushing out the door and down to her yellow car.

Taking a deep breath, Emma headed toward the center of town, glancing at the clock on her dash she realized she was not completely late and that she could run that errand after all. Just a quick run in the pharmacy would not take more than a minute or two and then she could meet her mother and brother. She was just about to turn onto the main road when her phone sounded in the seat beside her.

Her mother was waiting on her outside of the pharmacy, an apologetic look on her face. "I'm sorry about lunch," she said, rubbing Neal's back in small circles. "I got caught up in a meeting and he's been fussy all day. I thought I might grab a snack from in here. Don't hate me?"

"It's fine," Emma reassured her mother, dropping a kiss on both her family members' cheeks before wheeling a cart down the first aisle. "I lost track of time myself." Looking a bit worried, Emma mapped out the store in her mind, wondering if she had enough time to grab the items on her list and something extra.

Emma had lived in cities both big and small before, but almost all of them had at least one large supermarket for shopping. Storybrooke was not like that. The aisles of the pharmacy were narrow and only offered a few grocery items among the hygiene and medical products. However, Killian had only requested a few items for the dinner he was planning to prepare for Emma and her parents that evening. It had become a thing with them, as Killian seemed to enjoy the process of cooking and loved to surprise people with his abilities in any arena. She loved the way his eyes would light up whenever anyone complimented that particular talent.

"What can I bring tonight?" Mary Margaret asked as she attempted to keep her son from grabbing the colorful packages off the shelves. "I could do a dessert or something?"

Emma picked up a bag of potato chips, which was not on the list but seemed to be calling to her with the flavor of salt and vinegar. "I don't know that he has a dessert planned," she said absently, her index finger running along the list. "He's more of a chef than a baker."

"You do realize how odd it is that Killian Jones, a/k/a Captain Hook, enjoys cooking," Mary Margaret said as her daughter scanned the shelves for a container of oregano. "It must be odd for you."

"My life is the definition of odd," Emma agreed, picking up the red capped container and throwing it in the cart. "And as far as cooking goes, it is a better habit than some of his hobbies. It's cheaper than the weekly poker games with the guys from his crew." Emma was actually not that upset with Killian's nights out with his former crew members and new friends. She would throw him an annoyed look when things ran too late or when he came staggering in reeking of rum or some other drink, but she was happy that he was enjoying his life in Storybrooke. Too often she had found herself worrying that he might regret his decision to have settled in this realm.

"It's a good hobby," Mary Margaret admitted, thinking of how she had found herself talking to him about different cooking shows on television or about a recipe that she had found in one of the magazines at her office. "But I don't think he'll give up the poker games any time soon. He has invited David the last few times."

Emma groaned and scanned her list again. "That's all kinds of awkward to think about him losing money to my father or vice versa."

Her little brother swipes at a package of dried pasta and sends it to the ground as Mary Margaret looks apologetically at the clerk glaring at them. "He's a bit hard to shop with," she said as Emma stooped to pick up the box. "I'm sorry."

"He's just two," Emma reminded her mother. "He's not old enough to find annoying. Besides he's a cutie." She reached out and ran her hand along his chubby cheek and smiled. "All toddlers are curious."

Mary Margaret resisted the urge to roll her eyes at her daughter and shifted her son's weight in her arms. "Spoken like a woman who doesn't have a toddler to chase around 24/7 and doesn't have to worry about Cheerios being crushed into every piece of furniture or stepping on toys in the middle of the night when you get up to go to the bathroom."

Emma smiled faintly, pulling her hand back from her brother's cherub face. "Is that your way of asking me to babysit more often?" She and Killian had tried to offer to watch the little boy, but many times that resulted in two exhausted adults and a hyper toddler winning the day.

"I wouldn't be that subtle," her mother said, wrinkling her nose distastefully. "Now let's get the rest of our stuff and let me get to the bakery. I think your husband and mine would enjoy one of those German chocolate cakes."

Emma was pushing her cart through the last aisle when she stopped suddenly, her mouth pursing in concentration and the list she had been using as her guide falling to her purse. "Mom," she said a bit shakily. "I forgot to see if they had any sea salt. Would you mind?"

Mary Margaret agreed and hurried off in the direction of the spices, wondering if the limited inventory would include such an item. Even from two aisles away Emma could hear her brother's cries of, "Mine, mine, mine," as he probably made another grab for some item that caught his eye.

Knowing she had only moments before her mother's return, Emma crossed the narrow aisle to the feminine products and stared hopelessly at the various brands and items. She looked furtively up and down the aisle, a move that she had perfected in her teen years when she was becoming adept at stealing.

Trying to ignore obvious question of why there were 12 different brands of pregnancy tests and only one type of soda in the store, Emma grabbed one from the middle shelf and stuffed it under some of the items in her cart. Now she had to figure out how to pay for it without her mother seeing.

Her mother rounded the corner and dropped the container of salt into the cart along with another package. Emma glanced at it. "Are you sure you're alright for dinner?" she asked. "Is your stomach still bothering you?"

"Now and again," her mother said. "It's more of an indigestion thing so I'll be careful."

***KESC***

Killian glanced skyward as he walked to the last few feet from the street to the apartment building, appraising the weather and enjoying a bit of the fresh air that he missed sometimes being land bound rather than on the sea. He could hear the door of his father-in-law's truck clatter shut and the other man's shoes slap the concrete as he caught up to him.

"You're cooking dinner and it's not fish," David Nolan said incredulously, the package from the butcher shop swinging from over his arm. "Color me impressed."

Killian chuckled and shot a look at David. "I do know more than just fish," he said. "But I get it. It's the pirate thing, right?"

"The sailing thing," David clarified. "Your right though, I assumed." The two men made their way of the stairs and were hanging their coats up in the entry closet a few minutes later. David knew that was Killian's tendency, as he was the more organized of the couple. Emma was not exactly messy, but his daughter was not one who organized obsessively or even bothered with hanging her favorite jacket anywhere but the back of her chair. He'd seen more than one argument between the two when Killian had picked up behind her and she'd accused him of being OCD.

"You're going to love it," Killian said as he unpacked the bag. "A nicely seared tenderloin with twice baked potatoes. And if I know my mother-in-law, a cake for dessert." Leaning forward, he read the note from Henry that the boy was headed to a friend's for the afternoon and that he had already texted his mother.

David dug through the crisper drawer in the refrigerator to dig out the fresh vegetables that were kept there, picking out just what was needed for a salad. The two men had what most would refer to as a friendly relationship, but there were still moments of strife and difficulty mostly because of Killian's relationship with Emma. David was an open and honest man, but the thoughts of the things that his son-in-law did to his daughter in the privacy of their own home was not something he wanted to consider.

"You've gotten things almost unpacked," David said, waving the blade of the knife at the more organized great room of the apartment. It was simply decorated, as Emma was not the type to go for ornate or cluttered. There were plush chairs and a couch, a few mementoes of Killian's seafaring ways, including a miniature replica of the Jolly Roger on the mantle of the fireplace, and a few framed photographs of family and loved ones strewn about. From the corner of his eye David could see one of the latest, a photo of Emma with both of her parents. It had been taken just moments before she had walked down the aisle at the wedding, her white dress just recently zipped and her makeup still fresh with no tears yet flowing from her eyes. Henry had taken the photo, joining them all a few moments later for one with his mother. David had a copy of the same one at the loft.

"Aye, if I left that task up to Emma, we'd be living out of boxes for next year," he said. "This way at least I can pretend we have everything under control." The two men set about getting dinner items ready, from marinating the meat to chopping the vegetables. As per their usual stance, they avoided conversations about Emma and stuck to more generic topics.

"The ship was just over the horizon when I saw her again, headed straight for us and with the canons already being loaded," Killian said as the two men took a break a little later. The small kitchen table had been turned into a diorama of sorts with Killian's glass signifying the Jolly Roger and the salt and pepper shakers as other ships in the battle. David held his own glass close to his chest to avoid it being a part of the drama. "Well my crew was panicked, but I ordered them to charge forward."

Both men were so engrossed in the reenactment that they did not hear their wives coming into the room. Mary Margret was lowering her son to the ground so that he could run on his chubby legs to his father. "Looks like you're busy," Emma said, placing her bags on the counter and smiling at her husband. "Already done?"

"As much as we could until you procured the rest of the items," Killian answered, standing from his chair and approaching the bags. He dug into one as she pulled another toward her.

"It's all there," she said. She pulled the pink and white box out of the bag and tried to roll it under her sweater, hoping that nobody was paying attention to her movements. "I'll be right back."


	3. Chapter 3

_**Note: This chapter got away from me a little bit and is a bit jumpy, but I hope you enjoy it. Please review and leave me some feedback. I'd love to know what you want to see and how you want this story to play out. **_

Mary Margaret shared a look with her husband as Killian rushed past them after Emma, a slight breeze blowing from his speed to catch her as she disappeared into the bedroom. She knew that her suspicions about what she'd seen at the store that day were probably right, but she was trying desperately not to betray her daughter's confidence just because she was bursting to tell her husband what she thought was good news.

"Did she look alright to you?" he asked her, leaning forward and craning his neck to see the now closed door to the bedroom. "I think she looked upset. If he did anything to her..."

"She's fine," Mary Margaret said. Reaching in her trusty canvas tote bag of Neal's favorite items, she pulled out a few of his little toy trucks and placed them on the floor in front of him. She knew that should distract him for a while, allowing her to concentrate on figuring out how to introduce the subject to her daughter that she might already know about Emma's condition. "He wouldn't do anything to hurt her, especially right in front of us."

He reluctantly agreed with his wife, returning to the dinner that he had somehow agreed to help Killian make though he hated the idea of taking orders from his son-in-law. Looking over the counter top, he searched for something, anything, that he could compliment and bring the mood back to an even kilter. "Did you try this marinade?" he asked his wife. "The man may be a pirate, but this is seriously good stuff."

He tilted the dish with the still raw meat in it toward his wife's line of vision and cringed as he saw her usually porcelain complexion turn green. She closed her eyes and pursed her lips together in protest of her body's reaction to the sight. "I'll try it later," she managed to say as she willed away the wave of nausea that hit her.

"You sure you're up for this?" he asked, wiping his hands on a nearby towel and crossing over to where his son was now recreating his own demolition derby with the cars and trucks. The boy even provided his own sound effects. "Honey?"

"Sorry," she said, opening her eyes slowly as if to determine the stability of the room. "I don't seem to be able to shake this bug. I'm thinking that I should get a referral to a digestive specialist or something." She put both palms on her cheeks. "Do I feel warm to you?"

Running his own hand across her forehead and then down the side of her face, he shook his head. "Not really, but you never should let these things linger too long. Perhaps it is time for some tests."

Mary Margaret nodded and gently moved one of the vehicles out of her son's reach when he threatened to throw it. "Let's not worry Killian and Emma though," she said. "I don't want to ruin our dinner tonight. I'll just eat light though." She looked toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. "We have had some good luck with our kids," she added. "Our daughter is pretty terrific and our son hasn't killed us yet." Tousling the little boy's hair, she grinned. "This isn't how we planned it, but it is pretty great."

David nodded, reaching behind Neal to run a hand down his wife's arm. "You know I'm proud of our little family," he said. "And how could our children not be perfect. They are the result of true love."

Emma knew she was busted when she heard the door shut behind her, Killian's footsteps mimicking hers as she crossed the bedroom and fished the package out from under her sweater. Without turning she knew that his blue eyes were upon her and studying her actions closely.

"Want to tell me something, love?" he asked, finally when she stopped in midstride.

"Promise you won't freak out?" she returned. She couldn't help but think about his proposal, the way he had started it by telling her not to panic. Was this their life? One of them threatening to panic at each and every potential monumental moment.

He cocked an eyebrow and waited for her to speak. She might have run from him at that moment, locked herself in the bathroom and refused to come out until she knew how to tell him and what to say, but her parents were in the other room. She couldn't have the melt down she needed at that moment.

Her parents were in the next room, oblivious – she hoped – to her current activities. She wasn't sure what Killian had said to excuse them both, but she knew the time was limited before there would be a knock at the door and whispered conversations about trouble in paradise. She should march back in there, ignoring the fact that the test was burning against her skin and the only thing she could think at that moment was the question of was she or wasn't she currently pregnant. However, that seemed to be the hardest task in the world, as she was sure that she'd burst out with her news of concern over asking someone to pass her a dish or break down crying if her father looked at her the wrong way.

"Emma?"

"I think, maybe, I might be, I don't know, but I could be kind of, sort of, well, pregnant." She did not breathe or even enunciate her words, looking down at the thin boards of the flooring. "I don't know." She sounded briefly unlike herself, an overly hyper or excited woman was not what she usually was when it came to anything, but at that moment she could feel all of the anxiousness bubbling inside of her.

"Pregnant?" His mouth was already twisting into a smile, his eyes brightening as she held her sweater out from her body and let the test package fall to the floor with a quiet thud. "You are pregnant…we're having a baby?"

Emma sucked in a breath of air and clenched her eyes shut to avoid his hopeful but guarded expression. She knew he was holding back because of her, thinking she might panic to know she was carrying his child. "I'm late," she said, then realized that was a bit vague for a man who still had his roots firmly entrenched in customs that were centuries old. "There are signs and I have them and well…I need to take this test. I don't want to do this, but I have to do it. I have to know. I'm freaking out and I need to know. You need to go and entertain my parents while I quit freaking out because if you don't my mother is going to come in here and start jumping up and down or something and I'm never going to be able to pee on this stick."

He turned half way to the door and then back to her again as if he just remembered something to say. "Is it painful?" he asked. "This test? Is it painful?" He looked adorably concerned as his eyes darted between the package she had stooped to pick up and her own curious eyes. "It won't hurt you? Bloody hell, I don't know how these tests work."

She let out what sounded like sob mixed with a laugh. "No, Killian," she said, her voice remarkably steady though her hands were the exact opposite. With her fingers she peeled back the sealed end of the box and held up the white test to show him. "I just pee on it. No pain involved. Just awkward and a lot of waiting. I'm sorry. I need to know. I can't face everything until I know."

He looked somewhat relieved as he stepped toward her and kissed her gently before pulling back. "I'll see to your parents." He bit the inside of his cheek as he watched her nervously looking at the test. "Are you sure you want to do this with them here? If you're worried that they will interfere…"

"I wasn't thinking about doing this when I invited them, but now I just have to know." She shook her head as though the thoughts were jumbling in her mind again. She thought of how her own mind wouldn't let her function without this little piece of information. If she was guessing correctly, she was several weeks along, but the thoughts of it had just recently begun to circle in her head. It was quickly becoming the loudest and clearest of all her thoughts.

She nodded her thanks and turned back to the bathroom. "Don't tell them," she said, not sure if he was planning to say anything at all. "I don't want to say anything until we know."

"When will we know?" he asked, realizing he probably knew less about this situation than he should.

She looked back at the package. "Seven minutes," she answered in her best announcer voice like a commercial, winked, and shut the bathroom door.

Killian cleared his throat twice before he turned the doorknob to greet his in-laws. Brushing off their concern, he made a quick trip to the kitchen to continue his preparation for dinner. He could tell that Mary Margaret was not that trusting that her daughter was in fact fine, but she was busy pulling the remote control away from her son and asking David to please keep him away from such objects in the future.

"She's fine?" David asked again under his breath when he reassembled his ingredients for the salad. He shot the pirate an accusing look. "Did you say something to piss her off?"

Killian tried to look contrite and threw a bit of salt over the potatoes. "She just needed a moment, but she'll be out in a few minutes." Glancing at the clock, he wondered if he could distract her parents enough that he could sneak back there to hear the news himself. He still wasn't quite sure what this test entailed, but he was confident that he wanted to know the results as soon as Emma did.

"Timmy!" the toddler called from his spot next to his father. Killian looked a bit confused, as nobody in the room was actually named that. The boy called out for Timmy again and David just shook his head.

"Did you bring him?" David asked his wife, sprinkling a bit of the freshly grated parmesan cheese of the fresh vegetables. "Please tell me…"

Mary Margaret huffed as she hoisted herself up from the chair and to the door. "He's in my car," she said. Ignoring her husband's explanation to Killian that Timmy was not another guest for dinner but rather a stuffed rabbit that Neal had begun to carry everywhere, she headed outside now with a good excuse to swallow some of the pink medicine to settle her stomach. They usually carried Timmy close at hand with the knowledge that waiting for the toy usually resulted in a melt down and tantrum. Today he made a great excuse.

David chuckled as Killian deftly chopped a carrot with his hook holding it in place, then without so much as a word snuck a piece of the orange vegetable to the waiting mouth of Neal. "He's a child," David said, "Not a dog you feed under the table."

"I think I'm going to go check on Emma, mate," Killian said, checking and then closing the oven door on the potatoes. "You got this?"

"No worries," David responded, watching curiously as Killian winked at the young Neal and jumped over a line of trucks the boy had set out on the floor. He seemed in a hurry to get to his wife.

Killian slid in the room and shut the door quietly. He could see from the mirror on the wall that Emma was seated on the edge of the tub with elbows on her knees and her chin resting on her hands. She was counting quietly though he knew that she had her cell phone to tell her the time. He couldn't help but smile at the soft pinkness of her cheeks and way her mouth barely moved as she tried to keep the time in check. He could have told her all of those things, reassured her that he was going to continue loving her if she had midnight cravings for nacho flavored chips or pickles dipped in sour cream. He was going to think she was beautiful when she could no longer her feet and when the dresses she wore were more like tents than form fitting slips of material. He would also love her if the results were negative and she was merely panicking over some weirdly timed symptoms with no baby on the way. But he did not say any of that, just sinking down next to her and resting his chin on her shoulder as she reached out to cup the purple and white test.

He wasn't sure what he was looking at in her hands, as there was no clue in her expression or even a change in it other than her rapid blinking as she tilted it back and forth. He wanted her to say something, anything at that point. A simple yes or no would have done. After what seemed like an eternity and a loud screech from the other room, Emma finally turned to meet his eyes with a barely perceptible nod before she smiled brightly.

"Really?" he asked, not sure what he could ask at that point.

"We'll call the doctor and confirm, but it appears that our 'we'll just see what happens' technique was more than just theoretical." She lowered the test to her side. "Guess that solves one problem."

"What problem is that, love?" he asked, his own eyes scanning her to see if he could see any difference that might better confirm for him what she was saying. She did not appear that different, a little fuller in her chest perhaps, but that could just be because he expected as much.

"You were wondering what wine to serve with dinner," she reminded him. "I can't have any and if you serve it without my drinking my parents are going to figure this out pretty quickly." She laughed as she kissed one cheek and then the other, following that with a kiss to the tip of his nose. It was something that he did quite often, but she reciprocated and recreated the move this once. "Are you okay with this? I know we said whatever happens, but I wasn't thinking this quickly."

"I'm more than happy," he reassured her, his fingers placed under her chin and thumb stroking her jaw. "And you?"

"Happy," she agreed.

"I told you the day we wed I would be contented with whatsoever life had in store for us," he said, one arm wrapping around her back and waist to pull her toward him. "If that be just us with Henry or a house full of children, I couldn't be any happier than I am at the end of the day with you in my arms."

She laid her forehead against his shoulder and breathed in the scent of him that always made her feel warm and loved. "You say that now but what about when this one," she pointed to her still flat stomach, "is a screaming toddler like my brother? You might be running for the closest exit at that point."

As if on cue there was a crash from the other room, a squeal from Neal and the harried voice of David lightly scolding his son. "You think I care so little for you that I would abandon you with our child?" he asked. "With his or her traits coming from the both of us, I think there is something to be said for safety in numbers. I should think that we will have to band together to survive." He chuckled lightly and placed his hand over her abdomen, feeling the warmth when her own hand joined his. "You aren't getting rid of me that easily."

Emma wasn't sure how they made it through dinner or dessert, but thankfully her parents seemed distracted in their own right. Her mother seemed to only eat when someone looked at her and her father was attempting to take bites between fussing over Neal's attempts to feed the stuffed rabbit rather than himself. Henry's late entry from a friend's also served to curtail the attention that could have been focused on Emma's abrupt disappearance and reappearance or the grin that kept growing on Killian's face. Even Neal's insistence at dinosaur shaped chicken nuggets was not enough to remove the giddiness in the air from Killian's mood when he had to quickly heat the items up at the risk of his carefully planned meal's integrity. Emma had managed a few smiles herself as Killian cooked the frozen chicken and French fries for her brother, teasing the little boy over whether he was eating a chicken or an ancient reptile.

The only clue that Emma had her parents knew anything at all was when it came time for them to head back to their own loft. David hugged her and was struggling to carry a now limp and sleeping Neal out the door without waking him to a distressful scene. Mary Margaret kissed Henry on the cheek, hugged Killian in a move that still shocked him sometimes, and then threw her arms around her daughter and held on just a beat too long.

"You take care of yourself, Emma," her mother said before releasing her. Turning to Killian, she placed one hand on each shoulder and looked at him with her sternest maternal face. "You make sure she's happy and healthy."

Killian nodded mutely in response, not used to this sort of stare from his mother-in-law. Everyone had warned him that it was Mary Margaret and not David who was the most fearsome, but in moments like that one he could believe it.

_**Please, please, please review.**_


	4. Chapter 4

**_So let's move this along a little. I thought I would have a little fun since Killian has been written as keeping secrets (his deal with Gold before the Heart thing and the lips curse) on the show, I would have him struggling to keep Emma's secret here. Poor guy._**

**_And don't worry, David is plenty happy about the baby. He's just not quite as optimistic as his wife can be so he's going to need a minute to get on board. _**

Emma threw the soft knitted blanket over her shoulders and shuffled into the living room with a scowl on her face. She had been awake for a few hours already, having woken at almost 5 a.m. and found herself hugging the toilet. Killian had rushed in behind her, offering to hold her hair back or trying to rub circles on her back as she threatened to never have sex with him again and never eat anything that would make a repeat performance. He'd even carried her back to bed when she swore she had nothing left to offer the toilet, cradling her until she dozed successfully for a full 15 minutes. Unfortunately he had not turned off her alarm clock.

"You look like crap," Henry said, his spoon poised halfway between his mouth and the bowl of multicolored cereal that Killian had agreed to serve for breakfast. "Sorry."

She blew a puff of air to push back the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail. "Seriously, kid, not a good way to say hello to your mother," she said, throwing herself onto the couch. "And what are you eating? It smells like a fruit loop exploded with bleach."

Killian clucked supportively as he poured her some of the tea that she had requested the night before, a bit of mint in it that was supposed to settle her stomach. "Here you go, love," he told her as she accepted the cup from him. He pushed her hair back with his hand, smoothing it as she sipped.

"Sorry," Henry said. "Are you okay though? You don't…"

"Watch the comments," she warned. Over the rim of her cup she could see him looking at her with a concerned expression. He wasn't concerned enough to stop shoveling cereal into his mouth, but it was enough that his eyes shone in her direction with it. Lowering her cup and wrapping her hands around it protectively, she offered him a smile. "I'm fine, Henry. It was just a rough night and I'm feeling a little sick today."

"You should go back to bed," he said, repeating what she had told him the other week when he'd had a cold. "You'll feel better with some rest."

Henry cleared his bowl and was rinsing it in the sink as his mother's eyes closed and her head lolled back on the couch cushions. She did look tired, he decided, with the dark circles under her eyes. That was a bit new for him, as his mother was usually the one caring for others rather than letting them care for her. He could not even here what Killian was saying to her, but the man was looking at his mother so affectionately that Henry was wondering if there was something odd going on in Storybrooke.

His mother's eyes opened into tiny slits as she regarded Killian's rhythmic caress of her hair back from her face. She was slightly smiling at her new husband. "I love you, Killian, but I also blame you for this."

"I know," he said, smirking at her. "It's my fault, love. I accept that."

"How is it Killian's fault?" Henry could not help but ask as he passed by them to go brush his teeth before leaving. "Did he give you a stomach virus or something?" He did not wait for an answer as both his mother giggled and the pirate guffawed at the boy's question. The question still hung in the air as he headed straight for the bus stop without ever getting his answer.

"I don't know how other women deal with this," she hissed after the door had closed. "I didn't even have morning sickness with Henry. This time I feel like I'm possessed by a demon trying to destroy me from the inside out. I'm adding this to the list of things I don't like – cheerful pregnant women."

At the same time he daughter was contemplating such women, Mary Margaret smiled widely at the yellow slip of paper in her hands and practically bounced with her steps as her husband pushed the stroller toward her car. Suspicions confirmed, the mother of two was already planning nursery color schemes and trying to figure out if she had kept enough of her maternity clothing from last time she was in such a condition.

"I still think Eva or Ruth for a girl," she was telling her husband as he struggled with the belt on the booster seat. "I know you still object to Leopold for a boy, but it would be nice to honor my father."

"Maybe we should wait a while before we go into name discussions," David said, avoiding his son's sticky grasp. "We have a few months yet to go."

Even in the morning sunshine, his wife was practically glowing with excitement as she regarded the papers in her hand once again. She'd never actually had this experience before with the prenatal care of the modern realm. And for once she was planning to enjoy it, including ultrasounds and birthing classes that she'd heard and read about before. "Maybe we should look for a new house," she said suddenly as her husband successfully managed to fasten the child in the booster seat. "Something big enough for our family with a yard for the kids to play in and closet space?"

She was already behind the wheel of her car, looking back at the way he was trying to wipe their son's hands with a wet wipe and failing as the boy gleefully avoided the man. "David," she said. "I know you're nervous, but I am happy about this. Please just be happy. We don't have any horrible villain or villains to fight. We've been living a quiet life here. Our daughter is happy. Our son is messy but happy. Let's just enjoy this."

He tossed the wipe into the oversized bag that always accompanied their son, giving up on the effort to wipe his hands. "I'm happy," he told her. "Really. I'm just needed back at work and you're needed for the council meeting. So let's get this little guy over to see Belle and we'll celebrate tonight."

Mary Margaret crinkled her nose favorably and sighed. "I'd really like that," she said. "After you pick up my prescription for the vitamins from the pharmacy, right?" She passed him the slip of paper.

The last aisle of the Storybrooke pharmacy contained a wall of refrigerated displays, offering various items that required cooling. Killian rarely did the shopping for their household, finding the process a bit too odd after years of taking what he wanted and not finding stores with every item under the sun. However, Emma had reminded him that stealing everything would only lead her to have to arrest him. So feeling oddly modern later that afternoon, Killian pushed the four wheeled cart down the aisle and stopped in front of the display of orange juice.

Dr. Whale had suggested the juice as a good addition to Emma's diet, though she had made a face and proclaimed that she despised the taste of it. "But it is for the health of our baby," Killian had said at Granny's after the appointment. "Isn't that good enough reason."

She had given him one of her patented looks of disgust and turned the small glass up to gulp down the juice drink. "Happy?" he asked, slamming it down on the table. She mumbled something about pirates thinking they were doctors.

"Deliriously," he answered. "I just want us to do the right things, love. It isn't a punishment."

Emma smiled, putting a hand on his leather jacket covered arm. "Killian," she began. "Once we start telling people about this, they are going to have so much advice for us. From diet and exercise to baby names and sleeping tricks. We can't follow all of it."

"But Dr. Whale said…"

"He said I should get more folic acid, which I will be with the vitamins," she said. "But if it makes you feel better, I'll try to have a little juice." She grinned at the victorious expression on his face, one that she assumed he had made with every sea battle he had won and every treasure he had procured. It seemed such a minor thing, but at the same time she was happy that he was that proud of the tiny steps he could take to care for his unborn child already.

Killian reached in and pulled out three cartons of the juice one at a time, ignoring the voice inside that told him he would have to explain himself to his wife. He wanted to do the right things, the good things, the helpful things, even if that meant that he poured her juice each morning and rubbed her feet at night.

"I thought you were a rum man," David said, rounding the corner with a tiny white bag from the pharmacist. "And I've heard of orange juice mixed with champagne, but that looks like a bit much."

The men's eyes met as Killian lowered the last carton into the cart and both darted away as they realized where they had just seen each other. With a curt nod, they both acknowledged the other and then stood awkwardly in the center of the aisle. "It's good to see you, David," Killian answered, shifting his weight so his hip bumped the cart handle. "I hope you aren't here for any medicine related to our joint dinner?"

David looked at the white bag in his hands and quickly dropped it to his side. "Oh no," he said, waving his free hand out in front of him. "Snow just asked me to pick up a prescription for her. No big deal."

"Aye," Killian answered. "I suppose it is that sort of a day here in Storybrooke. I'm running a few errands for Emma." He glanced down at the cart and the odd assortment of grocery items that he had planned to purchase, including an earlier one from the farmers' market. Much to Emma's amusement, he had picked up two magazines and a brochure on nutrition for pregnant women and was buying all the foods suggested.

David's face clouded at the cans of lentil soup, crackers, ginger ale, multiple containers of yogurt, a package of almonds, bread, a jar of fig jam, and the half gallons of orange juice. It was an odd combination, as was the white package similar to the one he was holding too. "Is Emma feeling well?" he asked. He'd only seen her for a few minutes that morning, chugging water and munching on saltines at her desk as she barked back that she was fine.

Killian blinked twice. "Aye," he said softly. "She's…"

David held his hand our again and protested. "Just tell her we're worried about her," he said. "She's looked tired lately."

"You want me to tell my wife that she looks tired?" Killian asked skeptically smirking. "Mate, you've been married much longer that I, but I'm not ignorant to a woman's feelings. She might bloody well lop my head or some other appendage off if I insult her in that way."

"She might well at that," David agreed with a short chortle. "Fine, don't say anything at all. Just…"

David looked back into the cart and surveyed the items, his mind running through the list that he had seen on the nutritional pamphlet from just that morning. It was almost all there, including a stalk of broccoli peeping out from the farmers' market bag that Killian had brought in with him. He almost reached forward to grab the slick white package that was identical in shape and size to the one still in his hand. Suddenly the reality dawned on him. "Killian," he said with a no nonsense tone taking over his inflection. "Emma's pregnant?"

The pirate looked as though he hoped the floor would swallow him up whole on the spot. Shifting his weight from one boot to the other, he mumbled something that David asked him to repeat. "She specifically asked that I not tell you or your wife as of now," he said. "So please don't ask that I betray that confidence."

Killian could not help but notice the way the other man's face went from white to red to white again and then somewhere in between and his fists clenched tighter as his eyes practically bugged out of his head. "Emma's pregnant," he said. "Snow's…" The man seemed to actually be having a heart attack in the middle of the store. Killian lurched forward to help support David as the man's breathing was erratic.

"Dave," he said, using the name that his father-in-law usually hated and corrected. "Are you ill?"

David shook off the man's attempts to help him breath normally and glared at the floor as though it had just announced his wife and daughter were pregnant at the same time. "I'm fine," he squeaked, sounding much like Emma when she was answering the same question lately. "I just…I wasn't really expecting to be right. I'm not usually the perceptive kind of man when it comes to…"

Killian laughed and patted the man between his shoulders. "I'd work on the reaction to be better prepared when Emma tells you," he joked. "That display was a little dramatic."

David gripped the bag in his hand a little tighter as Killian returned to the cart. "You're telling me that your reaction to becoming a new father wasn't on the dramatic side? You might seem like you always have everything together, but news that you're about to become a father is not something I would think you're used to hearing. At least I hope not."

"Aye," Killian said with a smirk. "I haven't much experience in that area. And the news did shock me even if it wasn't completely a surprise." Killian managed a smile, letting out a tense breath through his tightly clenched teeth. "I'm hoping it won't be much longer before she divulges the news widely. Keeping another secret in this town is a challenge that doesn't interest me as a sport."

That made David smile. "That's good to hear after everything that's happened in the past," he said. "But your secret is safe with me for now. I just hope you're both ready for Mary Margaret's reaction when you two do tell her. She's not going to be able to contain her excitement on this one."

_**Note: I have to give credit for the items that Killian was buying at the store to my husband. When he found out I was pregnant he spent close to $150 on items that he saw on the essential food list for pregnant women. I didn't even like most of the items, but he practically chased me around the house trying to get me to eat them. I just pictured Killian being that same way that he finally had something he could offer Emma and he was going to jump in with both feet.**_


	5. Chapter 5

_**Thank you for the positive reviews. I'm trying to write Neal as a typical 2 year old - I have 2 year old twins and can tell you that they are trying but adorable most days. We'll be moving the timeline forward in a few chapters, but we're going to stay at this early stage for a few more chapters. **_

_**I do love the fluff of this story, but there will be some angst and exploring of feelings that the show doesn't really have time to cover. You'll see that a bit more in this chapter with Emma. Just as a note, Regina and Rumpelstiltskin are present in this story, but I'm leaving them in the background for now. I don't want to cheat the two main couples of this story by moving the focus to our favorite villains. You'll see and hear of Regina, but not too much.**_

_**One review suggested that Killian is a bit out of character. I agree I haven't yet shown his issues and fears. They are coming. I just haven't gotten to those chapters yet. He is by no means perfect, nor have I meant for him to be. Don't panic. He's going to do plenty of panicking and failing on his own. So if you stick with the story you're going to see that coming up. In this chapter you'll see that Emma is bothered by his calmness over everything. In the show he rarely indicates when things are bothering him. Instead he just shuts down and mopes. **_

**Chapter 5**

Henry Mills considered himself to be lucky in terms of family. He had more of it than anyone he knew, which was certainly different than how he started his life. In counting he had two mothers who both loved him dearly, an uncle and step-brother who followed him around like puppies, two step-fathers who were always trying to impress him, a set of grandparents who were eager to spoil and pamper him, seven men who referred to themselves as his uncles, friends, companions, a step-grandmother who was loathe to accept the title but still always there for him, and a grandfather who was the most powerful of all the magical entities in Storybrooke – when he wasn't banished from the town. As he shook off his coat and hung it next to Emma's at the Sheriff's Station, he could not help but smile at the way she was sitting.

David had explained to him more than once that his mother was royalty – a princess who would have one day ruled a kingdom as a queen in the Enchanted Forest. But today she was dressed in jeans and an oversized sweater in a dimly lit station. Her hair was pulled back in place by a rubber band and her legs curled up under her bottom in a position that obviously required balance in the rolling chair of her desk. A thin yellow pencil was in her mouth and she chewed on it nervously as her eyes scanned a single piece of paper in her hands.

Emma Swan looked younger than her 31 years, almost like a teenager taking a test at school. He briefly wondered if that had been how she looked when she had given birth to him at 17. She did not speak of those days often, only telling him that she had been in jail and felt very much hopeless and alone. One night he'd heard her crying to his grandparents that she did not know what to tell him, as had tried so hard to push those memories of that time away that she had tried to never imagine what his life had become when he was adopted. There was no blame there, though. He understood as much as he could, accepting that she had been young and scared.

"Mom," he said, plopping down in the chair next to her desk and watching her startled reaction that he was there. "You're busy?"

"Not too busy for you," she said, the surprise melting into a warm smile for her son. "I thought you and Regina were going to go shopping for Roland's birthday present?"

Henry shrugged, his eyes darting to see if anyone else was in the room. He'd passed his grandfather on the way in but the man had told him that he was taking a few hours off to see to some duties at home. "Dead end," he said. "What are you working on now?"

"Someone stole an animal trap and some snow shoes from the pawn shop," Emma said, dropping the paper back into the stack. "My guess is one of the Merry Men, but I can't prove it yet." She flashed her eyes back at the stack on her desk. "Boring tasks."

"Sounds like it," Henry agreed. "Maybe you want to take a break and head to Granny's?"

She laughed, lowering her feet to the ground and standing without protest. "You're right. We haven't been in a while, Granny might notice that and send out a search party."

The two of them headed to the diner that was not quite as crowded with customers as it would be that evening. Sliding into one of the booths, Emma tried to not think about the copious amounts of food that her son was ordering under the guise of calling it a mid-day snack rather than lunch. She was having tea with a little toast in comparison to his blackberry pie, corndog, fries, and chicken and dumplings.

"Where do you put it all?" she asked him when even Ruby made a face at his glutinous order.

"Growing boy," he responded, reminding her of his age when he blew bubbles into his soda with his straw before drinking. "I can't decide what I want so I got a few things. You can have some of mine."

She shook her head, focusing on the warm tea in front of her and wondering how many steps it was to the restroom just in case. That had been one of the first things to tip her off to her condition, an aversion to smelling foods that had once been her favorites. Even thinking about certain fried or aroma filled items made her stomach knot uncomfortably. She could only hope that she wasn't as green as she felt at times.

Shaking her head from her thoughts of queasiness and other pregnancy symptoms, she tried to focus on her son's tales of life at Robin and Regina's, learning that Roland was currently trying his luck at bike riding. She frowned as she thought about that for a moment, realizing that she had never actually mastered that skill herself. Who would teach her new son or daughter that skill, as she was pretty sure her pirate husband lacked that experience as well?

"Who is teaching him?" Emma asked him, trying to picture Regina jogging along beside the boy and righting him when his balance was thrown.

"I am," Henry said. "I learned from some of the kids at school and my mom said I could teach Roland since she doesn't have time and Robin's better with a horse than a bike."

Emma's thoughts calmed a bit toward bike riding, realizing that maybe having an older son to teach the new baby things wouldn't be so bad after all. Henry did not know what she was thinking though and prattled on about Roland's antics, Regina's plans at redecorating, and Robin's attempts to get the Storybrooke school system to include archery as a required academic class. Emma tried to give the proper responses, laughing or nodding in the right spots, asking for more details and smiling when the boy looked back at her.

However, her head was in turmoil. She had the memories that Regina had given her during the year away from the small Maine town, vague recollections of Henry as a baby that were not actually true. She had memories of her parents raising Neal, including the day that he took his first steps at the loft just as everyone was getting ready to head to Granny's for some sort of victory party. Yet she had no idea how exactly she was supposed to raise a baby. Sure she knew how to change a diaper and could figure out things like burping and bathing. It was the rest that seemed impossible to her. When did a baby learn to speak? Would the baby struggle because she and Killian had different accents? What about walking? Did they just get up and do it? Did you have to physically move their legs as practice? Neal had used a pacifier, but Aurora's son had not. Was that a choice she needed to make? What was the right one?

Flexing her hand a little, she cradled her forehead between her thumb and index finger and groaned, gaining her son's attention. "Are you okay, mom?" he asked, his words subdued by his chewing on the corndog. "Something wrong?"

She closed her eyes and wished she could close off her sense of smell. "Just a headache," she said. "I'm fine."

"You probably need more to eat than that toast," Henry commented. "I get headaches if I'm too hungry." With the way he ate, she wondered if that was ever really an issue.

Across town, Mary Margaret raked her hand over the edge of the closet shelf, hoping to grab the edge of the box that her husband had placed there for her just a few months ago. Her mother and father had both been tall and lanky and though she rarely thought about their height, she wished that she had gotten at least some of the inches that she had felt she had been destined to receive. Stretching on her tip toes, she batted at the corner of the box with her fingers and groaned.

"Mommy!" Neal's voice rang out loudly from the bedroom. "Mommy!"

Mary Margaret settled back on her feet with a frown and made her way over the pile of baby clothes she had found that morning. "Hi, baby," she said, throwing her son a look around the doorway. He was in his phase of needing to see her or David at all times, not trusting that they would truly return could he not see or hear them. "Are you having fun?"

The little boy had emptied out one of her clothes baskets, climbing in and making car noises that she assumed to be his version of driving. With his chubby hands gripping the sides of the basket, he rocked back and forth, a silly smile on his face. She couldn't help but smile widely back at the little boy, wondering again if he was gaining a brother or a sister. "Rrrrrrrrrrrrr," the little boy roared, imitating the roar of his daddy's truck.

She knelt down to his level and kissed his messy hair. "Silly boy," she said. "Such a silly boy."

The room was an absolute mess as she had left boxes scattered with clothing items strewn about the room. She gathered the load of dirty laundry that had been displaced for her son's adventure with the basket and carried it toward the washer just off the kitchen. Dumping the load into the white machine, she poured in her soap and let the machine growl to life as she padded back to tackle another task.

Humming under her breath with one eye on the mess and one eye on her son, she jumped as she heard the steady knock at the door. Throwing it open with the expectation of one of the dwarfs or even Granny coming to complain about some city function that had neglected to be taken care of that week, she was a bit more shocked to find her son-in-law on the other side of the door, a brown paper bag in his hand.

"Milady," he said as she ushered him inside.

Resisting the urge to look back into the hallway for a sign of her daughter or grandson, Mary Margaret focused her attention on the bag with curiosity. "Did you bring me something?" she asked.

He looked down at the bag in his hand as though he had forgotten it was there. "Your husband was headed over when a call came in about a traffic accident," he said, holding the bag out to her. "So I'm the delivery service today."

Mary Margaret accepted the bag, unfolding it to peek inside and find a container of soup from Granny's. "I've been feeling a bit under the weather," she admitted, motioning for him to follow her to the kitchen. "David knows that Granny's soup can work wonders for me." Killian watched her place the container at the center of the table and dig for bowls in the cabinet. "Would you mind grabbing Neal? I might be willing to share this soup with you."

Killian strode over to the boy, lifting him and giving him a quick jostle on the way back to the kitchen. Despite the giggle over being tossed into the air, the boy quickly voiced his opinion of being carried with a chorus of the word down. At his mother-in-law's direction, Killian placed the boy in the hard plastic seat at the table and handed him the spoon that was just out of his reach.

"Now you've done it," Mary Margaret chided as she poured a bit of the soup in their bowls and placed some crackers in front of her son. "He's going to use that as a drum stick and deafen us both with his musical abilities."

Looking both embarrassed and chagrined, Killian ducked his head and mumbled an apology for his error. "I suppose I have much to learn in that area," he admitted feeling the soothing heat of the soup on his tongue and throat. "It doesn't quite come naturally."

"It will," she answered, trying to swap the animal shaped cracker for the metal handled spoon in her son's hand. "You'll grow into it. When the baby first gets here he or she won't be anything like chasing a toddler." She stopped mid-motion, her jaw dropped and her eyes wide. "I mean…I didn't mean…"

"David told you," Killian said, his hand dropping his own spoon and finding that spot on the back of his neck. "I should have seen that on the horizon."

"David didn't tell me anything," Mary Margaret said sheepishly. "I may or may not have seen Emma purchasing a pregnancy test. And well…the signs are there, Killian. We have many good habits and traits in this family, but keeping secrets isn't one." She smiled shyly at her son-in-law. "So you're telling me that I'm right? I'm going to be a grandmother again?" She sat a little higher in her seat, her free hand fingering the collar of her yellow sweater set.

He chuckled, reaching out and grabbing the spoon when Neal reluctantly dropped it in a chorus of no's. "Emma's going to be quite angry," he said. "She didn't want to say anything yet and within 24 hours I have informed both you and your husband, as well as almost letting the news slip to Henry. I don't think she's going to take that well at all. Perhaps it is not just your blood relatives who are poor at the job of secret keeping."

"You didn't tell me," Mary Margaret said. "I guessed. And personally I'm excited to know that I was right. This is incredible news. Aren't you thrilled? I know Emma's probably beside herself and you must be so excited."

"I haven't fully wrapped my head around the news yet," he admitted. "Your daughter and I seem to have two speeds together – fast or slow. I don't think we've ever moved at a steady pace. And here we are charging into another area."

"Don't worry," she said, wiping a spot up that she had dripped. "You've got months before the baby gets here and every day it is going to feel more and more real. Just wait until she's showing and you can feel the baby kicking against your hand. It's incredible. As for nerves, don't worry about that either. It's natural. I know that David is freaking out this time too…" She clamped a hand over her mouth and opened her eyes wide. "I mean he freaked out over Neal almost as much as Emma. It was like he was a first time father all over again. So it is perfectly natural to be a little nervous about a baby."

Killian did not question her slip with anything but a curious glance, finishing his soup and offering to help her clean up before he headed back out into the cold day. She had brushed him off and sent him packing, telling him that she would rather he go home to spoil his wife than help her was a bowl or two.

Emma on the other hand was not quite up to the idea of being spoiled, her mind racing with questions and scenarios that Killian felt too unknowledgeable to answer. She had eaten a sandwich, telling him that she was not really wanting anything else and told him that her muscles weren't hurting when he offered to rub her shoulders. So he sat at the writing desk and waited on her to admit to what had her nervously asking him had he ever ridden a bike and what were his thoughts on roller blades.

"I don't think our child will be quite ready for such acrobatics for a few years," he told Emma that evening as she flipped through one of the pamphlets that she had from Dr. Whale. "Are you sure that's all that's bothering you?"

He was marking spots on a map that he had procured from Leroy, interpreting the tide charts and noting optimal times to fish with Henry that weekend. It was something Emma usually liked, his studious and researched ways of not going into any situation without careful planning. Even something as simple as a fishing trip was a strategic endeavor with maps and charts.

"You're not at all worried about this?" she asked, disbelieving. "You haven't thought about how we are going to manage to raise a child when neither of us know what the hell we are doing?"

"We'll learn," he said, using the metal compass to circle an area just off the coastline on the map. "It will be an adventure. Our child is not going to lack because I have not yet mastered some of the transportation modes of this land. If you feel that I should learn such things, I will start the study of it immediately."

"Don't you think one of us should know the basics of what we're doing here, though?" she asked. "How many babies have you burped? Is it okay to let him or her watch television? How much is too much? What do kids even watch these days? What about college? What if another curse hits and the baby can't go away to college?"

"Emma, I'm not claiming that I know anything about any of this. You have more experience so I intended to take your lead on this. You've babysat your brother and you lived amongst children of various ages when you were growing up. I had my brother, who was older and that's it."

"Exactly," she challenged. "That's what I'm saying. You should be freaking out. Instead I look like I'm crazy because I'm the only one freaking out."

"Would you prefer that I was screaming and yelling about it?" he asked. "I assumed when you and I decided we wanted to have children that you knew of my inexperience and lack of knowledge."

She picked up the pillow next to her and threw it across the room, not necessarily at him but in frustration. She growled as it hit the wall. "Of course I knew that," she said hotly. "Of course I know that you and I are probably the least knowledgeable people when it comes to childcare. I'm probably going to leave the car seat on top of the car and you're probably going to try to put rum in the baby's bottle. We're going to suck at this. But what I don't understand is why you are Suzy Sunshine about this. It's a baby. It's not some villain that we'll have to overcome and then never think about again."

"Emma," he said. "Maybe I don't know enough to be scared. What do you need me to do? Should I go to the library to check out books on parenting? Should we survey our friends and neighbors?"

"You can't learn how to raise a baby by reading a book," she said. "I just need you to acknowledge that you're scared about this too. I need you to quit acting like we're going to have this great epiphany when its born and we'll know what to do. I don't want to screw our child up like we were screwed up."

He glanced up to her flustered expression and suppressed a laugh. She was only 10 weeks pregnant and she was already thinking about things that were months if not years away from being an issue. "I just don't think it is time to panic yet," he said. "We will work on these things and figure them out. Surely your mother and father will be of some assistance in educating us about such things. And there are far more parents in this town than them. I thought you said everyone will be giving us advice."

She frowned, looking at the glossy photograph of a happy family at the hospital, a mother and father looking down at the face of their newborn. The pamphlet said nothing about what happens when you take that same newborn home. "I'd just like to feel more prepared than I do right now," she said, tossing the paper down with an unsatisfying throw. "You should understand that. You probably know the weather forecast, tide change times, and even the fish population of the Atlantic for your little fishing trip Saturday. I've seen how you used to look at my brother and any other child in this town. You got pale if someone even mentioned being pregnant. Seriously, how can you not be freaking out that we're not prepared for this baby?"

Pushing back from the writing desk in their living room, he chose to sit on the arm of the chair she was currently occupying. "My love," he said, circling his arm around her. "I believe in you more than I believe in having a break down right now. We're going to figure all of this out. We don't need to panic or even be hard on ourselves for being nervous. It's natural to be nervous about a baby."

She wrenched her head back to look up at him suspiciously, eyes darkening to the shade of her shirt. "You've been talking to someone about this," she accused. "My mother, right? Are you going to tell me that we don't have to worry about how we're going to raise this baby because all we need is hope? Did you tell her we're pregnant?"

His chin lowered toward his chest and his face scrunched like Henry when he was caught playing video games rather than completing an assignment. "She guessed, love," he said quietly. "She saw you purchase that test at the pharmacy and has been waiting on your to tell her. I found out today when I brought her lunch. She's ecstatic." He flinched in response to her visible shudder.

Emma groaned and fell back against the chair. "And so now she thinks I'm hiding things from her," she cringed. "Great. Not only am I a crappy mother, I'm a horrible daughter too."

"Emma," he said, sliding down the arm and fitting in next to her in the oversized chair. "She's happy for us. I thought she was going to break out in song when she figured it out. She's already planning shopping trips with you for baby clothes. She wants you to be happy."

Emma sighed, her head resting on his arm. "I'm happy," she said. "I'm just a little nervous because I realized today that we don't know how to do this and my husband appears to be in denial. And if I'm already thinking of these things, what do we have to face that I don't know about?"

"We have some time left to learn," Killian told her. "Remember the first time that you forced me to hold your brother as an infant? You said that babies are much tougher than they look and that he would not break under my inexperience. It'll be the same with our little one. We will surely make errors, but he or she will survive it. With us as parents, how could our child be anything but resilient?" He leaned in with warm breath at the crown of her head, the softness of his mouth against her.

"You never voluntarily held him again," she reminded him, chewing at her lip. "If you expect me to do this by myself while you stand off to the side, I'm going to have to kill you. Maybe I should look into that." She grinned. "And since she guessed, I suppose that's a good thing too. We don't have to come up with some cute or creative way to tell her. She'll probably tell my father too."

His lips were still against her hair as he answered her, the mumbled words not quite sinking in until she let them register. "What?"

"He observed me at the pharmacy and conjectured as to your condition as well," Killian said, his attempt to smile failing into a hangdog expression of guilt. "I suppose the items that I appropriated that day were a clue to him."

She swatted her husband playfully, her hand resting on his chest after the light slap. "You mean the cornucopia of folate, fiber, iron, and vitamin C that you purchased? The pregnant woman's buffet? That tipped him off? Are you kidding me? What have you been doing? Buying billboards to announce this?"

"Sorry, love," he said. "I didn't actually tell them. And they both said they'd keep quiet until you were ready to share the news."

Shaking her head, the blonde woman laughed. "What kind of conversations are you having with my parents?" she asked. "Is there anybody else? Did you tell Henry? Regina? Belle? Smee? What the hell, Killian?"

The guilty expression had not yet dissipated from his face. "Actually…"

"You didn't tell Leroy or Granny, did you?" she asked. "Everyone in town will know and I'm barely pregnant." Her voice was beginning to sound like a whine, but she was beyond caring that her behavior was practically bipolar.

"No," he said. "Nobody else knows of your delicate condition, love." He kissed her temple again. "It is only something that I learned from talking to your mother and father that I'm not sure I should share. It's a bit personal and this is such an unusual circumstance."

"I'm really beginning to wonder about your conversations with them," she said. "I swear if you are talking to them about our sex life, I'll have to move out of this town for good."

"I value my life too much for that," Killian said with a mock shudder. "Your father wouldn't quit talking about his sword and getting in a little fencing practice the first time he saw us kissing. I don't think that you wearing a wedding ring has softened him at all to our more intimate activities. As he reminds me any time he gets a chance, you were his daughter long before you became my wife." He smiled as she rolled her eyes at him again. "It's just that your mother let a little information slip today as to a secret of her own. I suppose since we are all coming clean, I'll share it with you."

"My mother?" Emma asked. "What secret does she have?"

"She did not say as much, but I do believe you are going to be a sister again," Killian said. "She appears to be expecting."

_**Reviews would be welcome and cherished. **_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Note: I apologize that there is not much Snowing in this chapter. I will be correcting that in the next couple of chapters with what I hope comes off as a romantic date between the two of them. **_

Emma was not sure that her mother was actually hearing her as she sat in the living room of the loft and told her for the fifth time that no she is not making some royal proclamation about her pregnancy. She was having shades of the Lion King again, thinking of holding a baby out in front of the clock tower as the rabble ooh and ah over the cuteness of the newest royal. The two couples had gathered there early that morning, wanting to forget all the confusion about who knew what secret and actually compare notes on the situation.

"I just think that people will want to know," Mary Margaret said, looking remarkably excited and well rested for a woman who had a toddler and was experiencing morning sickness. Emma admitted to herself she was jealous that her mother merely had twinges of nausea rather than the full out vomiting attacks that Emma could not control. "Once you get past these first few weeks you're going to feel so much better."

Her father was actually referring to this as a baby council, harkening back to his days of war councils and meetings with the various leaders in the Enchanted Forest. When Emma had entered the loft that morning, he'd pulled her into a hug and held on until she'd squirmed her way out of it. His eyes had glistened as she sweetly told him she was glad he knew and that she was happy that he would get the chance to be a grandfather again.

However, her mother's exuberance had made Emma groan in an exaggerated fashion and look to her husband for support. His amused and curious expression told her that he would not be standing up to the Nolans. No, he was actually enjoying the ideas that his mother-in-law seemed to think were natural and customary. She knew he didn't want them either, but he was appreciative that her parents were so eager that they wanted the world to know that not only had he bedded their daughter, he'd created a life with her. He was probably just happy that David was not planning to kill him. "They'll figure it out soon enough," Emma finally said. "Not like I'm going to be able to hide my pregnancy once I look like I'm smuggling a basketball."

"Your mother's just enthusiastic," David said, sitting in a position similar to Killian and rubbing his wife's arm supportively. "She has never not been thrilled about a baby."

"I didn't say I wasn't excited," Emma said in exasperation. "I just prefer things to be a little more low key."

"Like your wedding?" her mother asked pointedly. "You claimed you wanted it to be low key, but I seem to remember the newspaper even did a front page story on your dress shopping and then another about the ceremony. We're royalty. People want to know what is going on in our lives. It gives them hope."

Emma again shot a pleading look to her husband. "If the condition of my uterus is the only thing giving the people in this town hope, we're screwed," Emma declared. "You make your announcement and I'll do the low key thing. Besides, our wedding would have been low key if someone didn't tell all seven of the dwarfs and Granny about it." Killian chuckled as he remembered Granny waking them up one morning with Ruby and a tape measure to make her dress or his wife's face when Leroy and his crew arrived at the diner and dragged him off for a bachelor party with several other members of the town. She'd ended up housing half of the party goers at the jail and helping her father process their bail to release them before her hair appointment the day of the wedding.

"Emma," her mother said in a patient but weakening tone. "We're both pregnant at the same time. Don't you realize how excited people are going to be for this news. I can't just share my news with the town. It has to be both of us."

"And that isn't at all strange to you," Emma challenged. "There are television shows on TLC about things like this because it is so odd." She groaned again. "I swear, Killian, if you don't say something to stop her..."

He squeezed her hand reassuringly and looked at the wide eyed and hopeful expression of his wife's mother. "Milady, I'm not sure that Emma and I are comfortable with such opulence when it comes to our child," he said as firmly and delicately as he could. "You must surely understand that we're not quite used to such things, especially Emma. She would prefer we keep this to a more simplistic state of affairs."

David cleared his throat and grasped his wife's arm a bit tighter. "I think we can understand that," he said. "We're not in the Enchanted Forest. Emma is more used to this realm's practices and not our customs. We can respect that, right? Snow?"

The disappointment was obvious on the brunette woman's face as she looked downward and then nodded slowly. "I guess so," she said. "How do you plan to tell everyone? A post on Facebook?"

Emma smiled and shook her head. "I don't think that is my style either," she admitted. "I guess I could just let people guess. You guys certainly did."

David chuckled. "Some of the people in this town wouldn't even notice until you gave birth," he said. "Not everyone is as perceptive as your mother and father."

Emma giggled at that, leaning a little closer to Killian for both comfort and support. "I still don't like the idea of a big formal announcement, but maybe we could do something public," she said slowly. "Maybe dinner at Granny's with a few – and that means just a few – of our friends. We could tell people then and let everyone else find out as it comes up in conversation."

"You'd be okay with that?" Mary Margaret asked tentatively. "You know there would be hugging and touching? People are going to be happy for you."

"I'll survive," Emma conceded. "But you have to promise me that we'll keep it small. I'm talking just a handful of people max. No banners. No balloons. No trumpets as it is announced. Just food, friends, and a casual announcement. Got it?"

Mary Margaret's eyes lit up brightly. "Oh Emma," she said. "It's going to be great. Everyone is going to be so excited for us." She was up and out of her seat looking for a pad of paper to make plans before anyone had a chance to say a word.

David handed his wife a pen as the woman began rattling off a list of names that sounded suspiciously similar to the wedding invitation list that Emma felt would never quit growing. "She's going to hire skywriters and a band," Emma said, taking a sip of the mint and ginger tea that her mother had brewed special for that morning. "It's going to be a circus."

After David had left the group, answering a call about a suspicious man lurking near the bakery, and Killian had set out to track down some of the equipment he was lacking for a renovation project at the docks, Emma peered over her mother's shoulder at the list of names. "That's more than a handful," she reminded her. "Do we really need to invite all these people?"

Her mother placed the cap of the pen at her lips and tapped softly. "If we invite Red, we have to invite Granny," she said. "Same for Ashley, Aurora and Mulan. And then there are the dwarfs. There are seven of them Emma. If I leave out even one, there will be anger and hurt feelings. We need to invite Regina, which means Robin and Roland too. Then that leaves the Merry Men."

"I really don't think the Merry Men care if we're pregnant or not," Emma said, reaching for an orange and beginning to peel back the thick skin.

"Protocol," her mother said. "And there is no rule that says they will come if invited."

"We're offering free food at Granny's," Emma said. "They'll come." She looked at her mother's thoughtful face. "Are you really okay with all this?" she asked, changing the topic so fast that Mary Margaret appeared confused.

"What do you mean?"

"Being pregnant," Emma said. "I know you want more kids, but doesn't this feels a little strange with it being both of us at the same time."

Lowering her pen to the tablet, Mary Margaret smiled. "Emma, we didn't plan it this way, but it happened." She reached out to touch her daughter's arm. "Yes, we're probably going to hear jokes and be teased about how odd it is, but who cares. We're both going to have babies. They'll get to grow up together and be more like siblings than…" She paused and looked skyward. "What are they going to be?"

Emma frowned as she considered the titles and family tree. "Cousins?"

"No," the brunette said. "That's not right. What are Henry and Neal?" She bit her lip in consideration and seemed to be drawing the tree in her mind. "My child will be your child's aunt or uncle."

"And that's not weird at all," Emma said with a laugh. "I guess I don't usually think of it that way. Henry's more than a decade older than his uncle."

"Welcome to Storybrooke," Mary Margaret said.

After Emma managed to knock about ten names of the list of invitees to the event, she gathered her belongings to head to the station while it was still a early enough to consider it the early shift. Party planning was best left to her mother, she decided, even if that meant that it would grow out of control. Within minutes of arriving, she was busily sorting through a stack of papers and listening to her father's account of the morning's calls.

"What are you doing?" he asked as she carried a stack of papers over to what appeared to him to be a tiny copy machine.

"It's a scanner," she explained. "We can start scanning some of the paperwork into it and that way we file it on the computer rather than in those cabinets." She shrugged. "I thought it might make things easier." The station was straight out of the late 1980s or early 1990s, but Emma was determined to make some updates to it. She'd already introduced them to a pod coffee maker instead of the standard one and updated their cell phone plans to include data for e-mail.

"Interesting," he said, not fully understanding it. He was like Killian in that way, feigning understanding until there were enough clues to fully grasp the concept. He had the memories of a modern man, but there were holes in that. Emma sometimes forgot just how sheltered their lives and memories were from most of the things she found familiar.

Emma removed a staple from one group of papers and demonstrated the machine again. "It'll take a while for us to get everything scanned, but I thought it would be a good job for me when I get toward the end of my pregnancy." She looked a little sheepish as she closed the lid on the scanner again. "I know we're a few months away from that, but I was just thinking that I won't be much good at chasing people or stakeouts when I'm chained to the toilet because the baby's asleep on my bladder or I have to hold my arms out because I don't want to open the door with my belly."

"I think it is a great idea," David said warmly. "I'm also glad it is one that will keep you around here. You know that when you do go on maternity leave, I'm going to miss having you here."

She blinked back at him, noting the half crooked smile he was giving her. "That's not fair," she said pushing her lips together. "Your daughter is a hormonal pregnant woman and you are trying to make her cry. And second, we are getting way ahead of ourselves."

"This is going to be rough on me," David said, placing his hands on the back of the chair and rolling his shoulders as though he were about to stretch for some activity. "A pregnant wife and daughter. I don't know what I did to deserve this, but I'm likely to go find advice from one of the fairies about how to keep you both happy."

"You poor, poor man," Emma said with mocking. "It must be so rough on you. Here, have a seat. I'll get you some tea for that morning sickness. What? You don't have that symptom? Then I'll get you a stool so you can prop your feet up to prevent swelling. Oh, that's not a problem either. What exactly are you complaining about?"

David laughed with a gesture of surrender. "I guess I shouldn't go to either of you for sympathy," he said. "Maybe your husband and I can commiserate at the Rabbit Hole one night soon."

"You think that the way to keep me happy and on an even keel is to send my husband home to me drunk?" she asked. "I'm already throwing up most mornings and afternoons. The last thing I need is to work out a schedule for vomiting with the hung over pirate." She smiled and nudged his shoulder. "But I like that you want to commiserate with him."

David huffed and took her silent invitation to try scanning the next document. He delicately placed the paper on the glass surface and lowered the lid. "So you haven't said how Henry took the news about being a big brother," he mentioned as he pressed the larger green button on the control panel. "He's happy, I take it."

Emma frowned at her father. "I haven't exactly told him yet," she said. "I started to at Granny's yesterday. And then again last night, but he went to Regina's. So I thought maybe this weekend…"

"Are you worried?"

"About telling my son who I gave up for adoption that I'm pregnant and not giving this child away?" she asked sarcastically. "No, I'm sure this will go well. I can't wait to have this discussion. I'm practically giddy with anticipation."

"Emma, he will understand," David said, turning to face her as the machine hummed and glowed. "You were barely older than he is now when he was born. He's aware of how hard his life would have been had you been naïve enough to try to raise him on your own. You realize that, right?"

"I've had that conversation with myself," she admitted. "A few times. More than a few. It doesn't make it any easier that I'm afraid he's going to think I feel less for him than I do this baby."

David was empathetic to his daughter's plight, having worried about her reaction when she learned her mother was to have another baby despite the fact that she had been 29 years old at the time. "Fortunately you shouldn't have to deal with jealousy issues over toys and whatnot," David suggested. "He's a good kid, Emma. He's not going to blame you for feeling anything less for him than you ever did."

"I hope you're right, dad," Emma said softly. "I don't want to hurt him. I don't want to be the reason he doubts himself or his place in my life. He's my son."

"Tell him that," David said soothingly. "As long as he knows how much you love him, he'll understand." David grabbed his coat from the rack and smiled. "I could stay late if you want to go tell him now."

"And yet I think I'll keep working," she said. She looked around the empty office and to the empty cells. "It's a bit on the quiet side. I might try and get into some of those files for you and then call it a day. I'll put the calls on rollover."

About an hour later Emma grabbed the last file on her desk and placed it in the box on David's, trying to remember what he'd said about it. Her brain was a bit frazzled these days, information not sticking like it had before. There were whole conversations she was forgetting, promises that she made and didn't remember to fulfill. She felt as though her brain was mush half the time and rest of the time she was too busy trying to figure out what she'd forgotten.

"Miss Swan," Regina Mills said, her heels echoing on the linoleum floor of the station. "I thought you might be here even if it is the end of your shift."

"Should I be flattered that you have memorized my work schedule?" Emma asked. "Or just creeped out?"

"I would think you'd be more upset that I didn't refer to you by your married name," the brunette answered in a chipped voice. "And as for your schedule, Henry informed me that you were working the early shift today."

Emma nodded and perched on the edge of David's desk. "Stalking allegations aside," she said with a smirk. "What can I do for you, Regina? You don't usually come by unless it is to pick up Henry. Since I left him at school for academic bowl practice, I'm guessing that's not why you are here."

"You assumed correctly," Regina said. "I actually came in search of a favor. Your mother has been helping me out lately, but she's tied up with the budget today and Robin's under the weather from that little event in the woods."

"You mean last night's cook out where most of the Merry Men ended up with food poisoning?" Emma asked, stifling a laugh. "Robin's got it too?"

"Laugh all you want, but it has him dehydrated and quite unable to care for Roland. I've been summoned by your mother for some advice about the city budget and I have an appointment to keep. So I was hoping you might be able to gather Roland and care for him this afternoon. I hate to ask, but you were the next choice after your mother."

Regina must be desperate, Emma thought. "You want me to babysit?" she asked, a bit disbelieving of the request.

"I would take him with me, but your mother isn't exactly the sharpest when it comes to finances and accounting," Regina said, smoothing her hand over her suit jacket. "And my appointment might take a while."

"You implanted my mother with the memories of a school teacher, not a public administrator," Emma reminded her. Regina shrugged as if to say touché. "I guess I have an hour or two. Any special instructions?"

Such early acceptance of the request seemed to really throw Regina for a loop. She stuttered for a moment. "He's going through a shy phase," Regina said offhandedly. "Don't let it bother you. He takes a little while to warm up to people. And I'd prefer it if your husband didn't do anything illegal while in the company of Roland."

Emma nodded as though this was some normal instruction from a parent. "You mean like stealing from the rich to give to the poor?" she asked. "Look, I'm happy to do it. Even if I do come in behind my mother, the Merry Men, and whoever else turned you down before you came here."

Agreeing to pick the boy up from the primary school and have Regina pick him up on her way home, Emma set off to see if she could manage for the afternoon. She'd seen the boy a few times, even bought him a birthday present or two. Henry spoke of him often, as the boys had become as close as brothers in the past few years. She knew that he had been through a lot, from a new environment after being born in the Enchanted Forest, the loss of his mother, her return, life outside of Storybrooke and now life back in the small Maine town, it was no wonder that he was not as outgoing and sunny as he had been.

She met him outside the school, wondering briefly about the school's security procedures until a teacher explained that she had been called about the unusual circumstances. Roland stood on the lower step with his backpack in hand and a knit cap pulled own over his dark curls. She knelt in front of him, offering her hand out. "Hi Roland," she said. "Do you remember me? I'm Emma."

The little boy nodded and stared down at his shoes as she gauged his non-reaction to her. "Regina asked me to pick you up today," she said. Again he nodded, but nothing more than a simple head movement to indicate he was willing to walk away with her. "I don't know if you remember it, but you've been to my place before with Henry. I'm his other mom."

"Henry?" the boy asked, finally verbalizing and looking at her with the chocolate brown eyes.

She smiled. "Yes, he's at school right now, but we can go to my place to wait on him."

The boy thought about it for a moment and Emma wondered if she'd have to resort to bribery to get him to walk with her, but suddenly his small hand was grasping hers and he was walking beside her to her car. He did not say much, but he chirped out a few responses when she asked what he wanted for a snack and if he liked any particular movies.

By the time she got him to the apartment he was telling her that chocolate chip cookies were his favorite and offering a page in his coloring book if she wanted to color with him. Taking it as a sign of victory, the sheriff was seated at the kitchen table with him next to her and a bag of cookies between them. She had poured them both a glass of milk and was currently coloring what looked to be a cross between a fox and an owl.

"You're good at that," he said, shooting her a crumb filled grin. "You stay in the lines. Regina says that's important."

It was the longest conversation he'd had with her so she didn't tell him that she wasn't exactly a fan of staying within the lines. She merely smiled and commented that she liked that shade of blue he'd chosen for whatever the creature was he was coloring. They sat in companionable silence for a good twenty minutes, Roland occasionally looking to see if Henry was walking outside.

Killian found them still at it as he walked through the door, muttering about idiotic drivers almost running their cars into the water because they were distracted. His brow furrowed as he saw the scene, his wife looking less law enforcement and more domestic as she nibbled on a cookie and asked the boy beside her what color should her character's cape be in the picture.

"What have we here?" Killian asked, leaning against the wall with the refrigerator. "We're entertaining guests this afternoon?"

Emma smiled at her young charge, seeing his shy head duck return as he scraped the red crayon across the image. "Roland and I are hanging out waiting on Henry and Regina," she said.

Killian nodded and stooped a bit to catch the boy's face. However, he was having none of it and kept his eyes down, burrowing himself into his sweater. He could hear the child mumble something that Emma could hear. She smiled and patted his arm, reaching for another cookie and handing it to him. "Regina's going to throw a fit that you're spoiling your dinner."

Killian took another step and Roland responded by shrinking more in his chair. The pirate realized that another few steps and only the top of the boy's head would be visible. Emma reminded the child who Killian was, but he refused to look up.

Shifting his weight uncomfortably, Killian took a step backward, but that made no difference to Roland's reaction. Emma glanced at both of them and pushed herself back from the table. "I'll tell you what. I'm going to go check the mail. Why don't you take over coloring for me Killian? Roland will tell you which colors to use."

Roland threw down his crayon and pulled at Emma's sweater, his face peering up at her. "I'll go with you," he said in a small voice. Part of her was touched that he was so trusting of her, but she also realized that the boy was literally trembling at the sight of Killian. She ran her hand over the kindergartner's head, brushing back his thick dark hair.

"Hey mom!" Henry called out from the coat closet. "Roland!"

Just as rapidly as he had clutched to Emma, Robin Hood and Maid Marian's son was now flinging himself toward Henry. Emma's son looked amused and not all that shocked to see his step-brother. A weird high-five/dance/hug/handshake later, Roland was begging Henry to show him his other room. Trying to act like he had no interest in giving in to his younger step-brother's demands, Henry pretended to consider the request and then mentioned something about an old Lego set that he might still have in one of his drawers.

Emma smiled as they ran off together, but that same smile faltered as she looked back at Killian. Placing her left hand on his flannel covered chest, she rubbed circles with the heel of her hand. "Are you okay?" she asked. "I'm sorry to have surprised you. Regina was in a bind and needed someone to watch Roland while Robin's recovering from food poisoning."

His tight smile did not reveal any of the thoughts in his head as he took a step back from her. "It's fine, love," he said. "The lad seemed to be having a good time with you."

"He's a good kid," Emma said smiling at the half-drunk milk and cookie crumbs littering the table. She began putting the crayons back in the box and shaking off the coloring book that he had thankfully brought with him. "He's so shy these days. It's almost painful."

Killian braced his hand on the counter in front of him and leaned forward and then back, repeating the motion. "He seemed to have no problem with you or Henry."

Emma returned to the table with a sponge and brushed the crumbs into her cupped hand. "He knows Henry," she reminded him. "They're together at least four nights a week. And I had to do a lot of work to get him to even talk to me." She glanced up at Killian's sad expression. "Is that what this is about? That he was shy around you?"

"There is a difference in shyness and fear, Emma," Killian said. "The boy was scared of me. If I walked in that bedroom right now he might cry in fear."

"Killian," Emma said, his name coming out in a rush as she brushed her hand off over the garbage can. "He's just a little boy and every stranger is scary to a little boy. He is that way with everyone he doesn't know that well." She frowned as her husband continued to brood over the situation, his face now registering his annoyance and shame at the seeming rejection by the young boy. "Killian, look at me."

"I knew that it would be hard, but this just proved my point," he said, his voice sounding broken. "Any child in their right mind is going to be scared of me. It's my own doing after my years as a pirate and siding with any and every villain for a chance to go after that bloody Crocodile, but…Now that we're going to have our own child together, I'm..."

"You're not that man now," Emma said. "You're a good man. I wouldn't have married you if I thought otherwise." Unspoken fears had flushed his cheeks and she ran her hands over them as she turned his face to her. "Besides, are you calling my little brother or son crazy? Neal adores you. Henry's still a kid too and he loves you."

He pushed back from her, leaving her in the kitchen as he stalked to their shared bedroom. She did not follow him - even when she heard him leave the apartment without so much as a goodbye.

**_Note: I wasn't completely happy with this chapter, however, I was able to do a little bit of both couples together, some Emma and Charming, as well as Killian admitting one of his biggest fears about becoming a father. I had to tweak Roland's character to make it work (hope my explanation made sense), but I wanted to add this to this story because it is something that some first time parents (both women and men) experience even if they aren't a scary pirate. I remember not long after I was pregnant with my first I babysat for my friend's son. The boy cried the whole time and was terrified of me. I took it personally because all I could think was what if my own kid reacts this way to me._**

_**I also wanted to address Emma's feelings about telling Henry that she's pregnant, which would be hard for any mom. I thought David was the best one to have that conversation with her, as he probably relates to the most to that fear.**_


	7. Chapter 7

David stood at the counter at Granny's and supervised the application of whipped cream on the two hot chocolates that he had ordered for him and his wife. He reminded her that they would not want too much, but just enough to sweeten the already sweet drink. Ruby had rolled her eyes at his micromanaging, her lips sneering at him as she held it out for inspection. "Acceptable?" she asked.

"Thank you," he responded, throwing a few green bills down on the counter. "Keep the change."

With a sigh, he let his eyes dart to the door and then back to the counter. "How long has he been here?"

Ruby pulled the money toward her small apron. "About an hour," she said, pointing her chin toward the end of the bar. "And no he's not drinking that much. He ordered that rum about five minutes after he arrived, still nursing it."

David carried the two drinks past three other patrons and straddled the empty seat next to Killian. "Whatever it is," David said, setting the two travel mugs down in front of him, "it can't be bad enough to drink the crappy rum that Granny stocks. I don't drink it, but Leroy calls it sewer water."

"Aye," Killian said, tilting the glass back to look at the liquid. "It's on the rank side."

"Want to talk about it?" David asked. "You know that if it is bad enough that you're staring at liquor that I'll hear about it eventually anyway. Especially if it involves my daughter."

Killian growled in frustration, his eyes closing to the accusing stare of his father-in-law. "She's watching Robin's kid," he said.

"And you would prefer she didn't?" David asked, unsure why his daughter's favor for Regina had Killian so out of sorts. "I'm not following and my drinks are going to get cold."

"Kids don't like me," Killian answered, the man's face flushing under the confession and the warm air from a space heater behind the counter. "That Roland kid was shaking when I walked in the room."

David breathed raggedly and pointed at the hook that rested, still attached to Killian's brace, on the countertop. "At the risk of sounding like Captain Obvious here," David said, placing his feet on the bar at the base of the counter, "you're Captain Hook. I know we have all taken to calling you Killian, which is much more fitting, but let's face it. To people who don't know you, you're Captain Hook. In this realm that's not a good thing. You're going to face that image whenever you run across people."

"You're not telling me anything I don't know," Killian answered. "I have worked to change my image, but there are some who will never see beyond my past. I accept that. Emma believes in me. Emma sees past it."

"There's only one Emma," David answered. "And while you're likely to tell all the others that you don't give a damn about their opinions, it hurts when someone rejects you. Despite their small size, children are people too. Brutally honest, tactless, little humans who break your heart without a second thought." He shrugged. "Children aren't born thinking about how their words and actions hurt others. They are concentrating themselves. Something about survival." He grinned as Killian looked even more confused. "Part of my fake memories include a freshman psychology class at some unknown college."

"So I shouldn't worry that my own child will hate me?" Killian asked, his voice dripping with self-deprecating sarcasm. "I should forget that children have a tendency to run from my sight?"

"Oh you're kid's going to hate you," David said without hesitation. "He or she's going to love you some days and hate you when you won't give in to some whim. It's all a balancing act."

"That's your pep talk?" Killian asked as David slid back off the stool.

"Snow's better at those," he said. "And Emma's getting better at them. Go see Emma."

As Killian walked the couple of blocks back to the apartment, Mary Margaret pushed the stroller past a group of children playing in the park. Enjoying the surprise burst of warm weather that had gifted them in the midst of one of the harshest winters she could remember, she turned her face to the sun and let some of the rays soak into her skin. Still, Neal was bundled in his bright blue snow suit and was squealing for his mother to push him faster as she made her way past the waterfront walkway and to the picnic area where David was waiting.

"It's the middle of winter and you want a picnic?" he asked, dropping a quick kiss on his wife's waiting mouth. "I think you may have lost it."

"Is it a picnic if we are just drinking hot chocolate?" she asked, accepting a travel mug from him. "I just wanted to see my husband when we weren't running to meetings, stakeouts or bail hearings."

His crooked grin grew as he pulled the edges of her crocheted cap down over her hair. "I think you might be saying that you missed me." When she sighed to agree with him, he leaned down to kiss her. Gently, slowly, he lowered his mouth to hers, laying his lips tenderly against hers. He took her bottom lip between his teeth, softly nipped it, then laved his mark with his tongue. He repeated the process once, twice, three times. Then he let her mouth go.

"I thought married people didn't kiss like that?" she teased. "Especially not parents."

He chuckled, one hand still on the side of her face. "I've always admired your intelligence," he said, "but I do hope you're wrong about that."

"I might let you prove me wrong," she said. "But right now I have to get someone back to the loft for his nap." She smiled at his pouty expression. "You could come back with us?"

He closed his eyes, leaning back like he might stare at the blue of the sky above. "I could," he said, "but that would mean telling our daughter that I want to take time off for a little time with my wife. She might figure out what I mean by that."

His wife's eyes danced with laughter and her lips tilted upward. "I think she's figured that out," she teased. "Not much gets past her. She takes after her mother that way."

"How about a date night then?" he asked. "We could get Belle to babysit? Granny?"

"Emma could do it," she responded. "I'll ask." One hand fit the travel mug in the holder on the stroller and the other wrapped around her husband to pull him toward her lips brushed his cheek and placed a gentle kiss there, lingering a moment before she began to nuzzle her way to his ear. "I'll ask now."

It did not take much convincing for Emma to agree, even offering to let her brother spend the night which none of the babysitters had yet to be brave enough to offer. Mary Margaret told her it might be a tall order, but Emma said she was determined and even began to make her own list of helpers and different activities.

The night before the big sleepover, as Emma had referred to it, she was recruiting her last volunteer. Killian had been the easiest. He'd promised to be there as her backup, still more than a little hesitant that he was not up to the job. She'd ignored his protests and said that she was not taking no for answer. Next she wanted Henry, knowing that he was the key to her brother's compliance with any request.

So that night after dinner, Killian was doing his best to prove his statement that pirates were considered light sleepers, always ready for battle and ready for any sort of attack. He had warned Emma of this trait the first time they'd ever shared a bed, as he was known to wake up with an arm swinging or legs kicking. In turn she had told him of her habits of stealing the cover and kicking her sleeping partner to the ground.

Eyes closed and his hand and hook resting on his chest, Killian was sleeping on the couch in the apartment, seemingly oblivious to the sounds of Emma and Henry on the floor in front of the fireplace. They were playing a board game, which they invited him to join. However, after several trips around the board and no understanding of the actual rules, he'd thrown up his hand in defeat and laid back to watch mother and son until his eyes grew too heavy to keep open.

"You won't win without Boardwalk," Henry told Emma, his voice teasing. "The only sure way to win is to own Boardwalk, Park Place and all four railroads." Henry's eyes danced as he held up the cards for three of the railroads and Boardwalk. "I'm well on my way to winning."

"You might be," she said, fisting another handful of popcorn. "But I'm not going down that easily. I still have that fourth railroad and Park Place. Not giving them up." She smiled and wrinkled her nose as he tipped back the bottle of soda. "Don't get too cocky."

"Reporting for duty," Killian mumbled in a sleep induced huskiness, his arm extended into the air.

Emma chuckled and rose to her feet, pressing a kiss to his forehead she whispered his name and kissed his cheek next. "Killian," she said a bit firmer. His eyes fluttered open in surprise.

"Bloody hell," he said, his eyes fluttering. "What are you doing here?"

Emma laughed brightly, extending her right hand to grip his. "Come on, up with you," she said. "Let's get you to bed."

Groggily, he allowed her to pull him to his feet. "How long was I…"

"It doesn't matter," she said. "Now go to bed. Henry and I are trying to play a game and you're over here dreaming of your naval career."

The man shuffled toward her, kissing her chastely but firmly and running his hand over Henry's messy hair. "Good night, boy," he said as he stumbled toward the bedroom. "See you in the morning."

"Good night, Killian," Henry sing songed, looking toward his mother. "Why are you sending him to bed now? I thought you said that the crick in your neck you get from sleeping on that couch was your punishment for falling asleep there."

She shrugged as she plopped back down on the plush rug and smiled. "He's likely to start snoring soon. It isn't something you want to hear." Truth was that there was a part of her that liked taking care of him, a part of her that relished the opportunities to do something nice for him that wasn't just an empty gesture. So what if it was sending him to bed so that tomorrow his back wouldn't hurt? It wasn't the same as returning his stolen heart, but she still got a warm feeling from the action – even that small.

Henry rolled the dice and a smile broke out on his face as he moved the racecar a few spaces ahead. "I'll buy it," he declared, slapping down the colorful money on the coffee table. "I'm going to own this whole side. You'll weep when you approach it." He laughed breathlessly and bounced a little as his mother dug through the cards to find the right one. "Going down."

"I think you might be getting a little too competitive," she said as she held the card out between two fingers. He snatched it from her light grip. "And loud. He may be in the bedroom, but Killian is trying to sleep."

Henry shook his fingers and opened his mouth wide. "Silent celebration!" he whispered.

Emma swallowed her laugh. "Crazy kid," she commented. "We better finish this game tonight, by the way. Your grandparents are wanting us to watch Neal tomorrow night and I said he could stay here."

Henry pretended to choke himself. "Why did you do that?" he asked. "We don't all need to that. I mean, not me too."

"Have you met your uncle?" Emma asked tossing a kernel of popcorn at him. "It's going to take the three of us to wrangle him for the evening."

Laughing, Henry watched his mother roll the dice and land the shoe on one of his properties. Holding out his hand, he waited for payment with wiggling fingers. "I don't think you can afford my services. I don't come cheap."

"You want me to bribe you?"

"No," he said. "I just don't want to babysit." Taking his turn, he studied the board. "Or maybe I could be convinced if you'll let me get a dog. My mom keeps saying no, but you could get one for me and it could live here. I'd help take care of it."

Emma almost choked on her water. "A dog?" she repeated. "I don't know about that. I'm working about 50 hours a week these days. Killian's been working at the docks more and more. Who would walk the dog or feed him when you're at school or at Regina's?"

Henry sighed unhappily. "It was just an idea," he said. "I liked to think of having something special here that I don't have anywhere else."

"Don't pout," Emma said, rocking back to the oversized pillow she had placed behind her. "I didn't say no. I said I don't know how we can make it work. Let me think about it, okay?"

Henry nodded, keeping his eyes down on the board. "I could come by every afternoon," he said.

Emma bit her lip and watched her son thumb through the stack of money in front of him. His eyes still turned downward. "Maybe before we have this dog conversation we should talk about something else," she said. "You know that this is your home too, right? You have your room here. You have your stuff. And I hope you feel like you have family here too."

Henry lifted his head to regard her curiously. "Sure," he said. "I just think a dog would make it better."

Emma closed her eyes and told herself not to tell him to forget the dog talk. "Henry, this isn't about the dog right now," she said. "I think we need to talk about something else first."

Henry tucked his knees up to his chest and folded his arms to rest there. "About?"

"Well, there have been a lot of changes recently," she said, spreading her fingers apart in front of her and then pushing them back together again. "What with Regina and Robin getting married, us moving here, my getting married. You haven't really had that much stability this year."

"That's nothing for this town," Henry said. "I haven't had another family member turn into some magical villain. I haven't been kidnapped. I haven't even been cursed lately. It's been kind of slow." He smiled reassuringly at his mother but she didn't return the expression to him. "So what other change am I in store for now?"

Emma held his gaze for a moment longer. "Henry, I love you," she said. "If I could have changed things so that I could have raised you myself, I would. I have thought about that decision and those moments in the hospital thousands of times. I know you have a home here with Regina and you're happy. I feel like sometimes I don't deserve to be a part of that because I didn't choose to raise you when you were a baby."

"Mom," Henry said. "I know all this. You were young and you weren't ready yet. I get it. And I'm glad you gave me a chance to have a better life. Really. I get it." He reached out his hand to grab hers. "I promise. No permanent damage."

The tears in Emma's eyes were threatening to fall again, a familiar sting that she had come to find more frequent. "Glad to hear it, kid," she said. "But I have some news for you and I want you to know that no matter what, you're my son and I am going to love and care about you."

Henry scrunched his nose, his hand still cupped over hers. "Why does it sound like you're going to tell me that you're dying or something?" he asked. "Or are you going back to jail? Moving out of town? What?"

"I'm pregnant," she said, her eyes squinting at him as though that was somehow protect her from his reaction. "I'm going to have a baby in a few months and well that sort of makes this different around here."

Henry titled his head to the side. "Is that all?" he asked.

"All?"

"Nobody's dying? Nobody's going to jail? Nobody's being banished? I don't have any more evil relatives?"

Emma laughed. "Just a baby," she said. "I'm hoping he or she won't end up being evil."

Across town Mary Margaret was punching numbers into the calculator as David gave Neal a bath. "Are you going to be okay if I don't approve of all of these costs for the department?" she called out to him through the open door. "I can approve about three quarters, but after that I'm out of money."

David grunted a reply over the splashing of water, the toddler's squeals mixing with the question of what Mary Margaret planned to leave off of the yearly budget approvals. It was a nightly battle to bathe the child who screamed and kicked as soon as he heard the water running, his chubby legs trying to carry him away from the dangers he associated with the warm water of the tub. But once inside it, he was in heaven. The boy splashed and laughed at his own antics, refusing to be removed from the water and begging for more bubbles.

"I was thinking maybe we could hold off on the new phones," she said. "You and Emma have great cell phones and the landlines are only used on rare occasions. Do you really need this expensive of a system?" She craned her neck to see her husband practically cowering behind a towel.

"Stop it," he said to the child. "Neal, no more splashing."

The boy chucked one of the rubber toys out of the tub and shrieked gleefully as a puddle formed on the tile floor. "Neal." There was no stopping him as David stooped to pull the naked and wiggling child upward and wrapped him in the green towel he'd been holding. The boy arched his back to try to escape, his limbs small and slippery with the water and soap. David gripped harder, but the towel was no match for the puppy like moves of his son and his own button down shirt was sopping wet by the time he wrangled the child into the bedroom.

"Do you need some help?" she asked. "It looks like it is becoming a two parent job these days. You know we always do our best work together."

"It might be easier just to hose him down every night," David said, shuddering at the thought of the bathroom that was water logged and now his responsibility to clean. "I'll ask Killian if he could just take him down to the docks and turn the water jets on him."

Mary Margaret looked up from the ledger and smiled at her son and husband's drenched state. Neal's hair was darker in the water and curled about his face in an adorable way. His cheeks were rosy and his eyes shining with the excitement of his bath time games. "You can barely keep up with him and you'd rather a one handed man try it instead?"

David laughed as he dangled the boy over his left arm and reached for his pajamas. "If anyone can handle a fish like our son, it's a pirate," he announced. "But is it wrong of me to say I can't wait to see the man in action when Emma has the baby? He's going to entertaining to watch."

"Much like you," his wife said as she approached and kissed the damp forehead of her son. "As much as you complain, you love being a father. I know you do." She pressed herself to his back, her hands caressing his arms as he lifted the now dressed Neal into his arms. "I remember you before Emma was born. You were picking out ponies for her and I wasn't even halfway through my pregnancy. Then there was the day you traveled three hours to purchase that set of dolls that you were convinced any princess had to have."

He sighed, hugging his son a bit closer as the boy became fascinated with gripping the soft material of his father's shirt. "Didn't do any good," David remarked sadly. "She never had a night in that nursery. I never got to give her a pony. She never played with those dolls."

"David," Mary Margaret said with a sad tinge. "Don't do that."

"Don't do what?" he asked, stalking toward the stairs with Neal. "You are trying to make me believe that I'm a good father by giving me examples of what I wanted to do for Emma. But don't you see? I failed her. She wasn't safe. She had a horrible childhood because we couldn't defeat Regina's plan on our own."

"We can't change those things," she protested. "We just have to…"

"Move on and pretend that we have all the time in the world to make up for the 28 years we lost," he completed the sentence. "I understand that. I understand that I can't change what happened. I can't make Emma ever really understand how limited our choices were in all this. I can't make her see that had we kept her, she might have died or lived as an infant under the curse forever."

"She was the savior," his wife said, repeating the argument that they had vented before. "We had to send her to this realm. I regret that it was alone, but it worked out. She's grown into a wonderful woman despite the childhood she's had."

"We can't take credit for that," David said. "We can't take credit for anything as far as Emma is concerned."

"It doesn't mean we can't be proud of her." Mary Margaret called as he climbed the stairs and began the final stages of their son's bedtime ritual. She hesitated for a moment and then followed him. "What is this really about?"

He looked over Neal's head at her heated expression and again sighed in resignation. "Snow, it's not anything."

"Yes," she said. "Something is obviously bothering you. What is it?" She popped one hip to the side and crossed her arms over her chest. "I'm going to stand here until you tell me."

He lowered Neal to the bed and placed the stuffed rabbit next to the boy's pillow. For once the child seemed to understand that his father needed his compliance rather than the typical scuffle over closing his eyes for sleep. "We lost her," David said without removing his eyes from his son's fragile yawn. "We could have lost him if Zelena…"

"We have them both now," she answered. "We have our family."

"I worry that we're pressing our luck," David told her, pulling the blue blanket up over the boy's chest. "What's to say that we're not? What if the price this time is higher?"

"David," she said a bit more gently, kneeling own next to the bed and placing her hands on his thighs. "It won't be. It can't be."

With one hand on his son's chest and the other cupping his wife's rounded cheek, he smiled the best he could. "Do you know what our daughter is doing right now?" he asked, not waiting for her to answer. "She's telling her son that she is pregnant. She's worried that he won't understand because of the choices she made when he was born. She is scared that he's going to hate her for it."

"Henry would never…"

"No, he wouldn't," David answered. "He's a great kid and he loves Emma very much. He'll understand." David removed his hand from Neal's chest as the boy's eyes shut solidly. "She shouldn't have had to make that decision. We should have been there for her. We should have…"

"We were cursed," she argued. "It wasn't an option."

David nodded. "I feel bad for her," he responded. "When I first met our grown up daughter she was so guarded and distrustful. She cringed if you hugged her. She was a flight risk if we dared to bring up anything to her that was anything more than superficial topics."

"She's grown a lot."

"Yes," he agreed. "She's much happier and more open, but I will never get over the guilt that we couldn't be there to prevent her from being that guarded to begin with."


	8. Chapter 8

_**Internet fixed, but then trouble with . Fun times, but here is the latest chapter. Next chapter is all Snowing.**_

Killian had risen with the sun for most of his life, the idea of sleeping in meant that his crew had more time to misbehave. As much as Emma protested his morning habits, she had not managed to change him. That's why she was a bit concerned when the alarm clock sounded and he was half buried under a pillow and the blanket pulled up to his chin.

"Killian," she said, reaching out to touch the stubble covered cheek that was the only bit of skin showing. "Killian?"

He mumbled something unintelligible, his hand reaching up to capture hers. "I'm trying to sleep here," he managed to say, kissing each of her fingers individually.

"You do realize that the sun is up?" she asked him, propping herself up to look at the window blinds and see the sunlight already streaming in between the slats. "For a while, I think."

"Mmmmhmmm…" he said nestling into the blankets. "It is."

She laughed. "This is a new side to you," she teased. "I kind of like it."

"You like me as a slothful waste of a man who wants to stay in bed with his wife all day?" he questioned, only one eye peeking over the edge of the cream colored pillow.

"I like you as the man in my bed who isn't jumping out of it the first chance he gets," Emma corrected with smile of her own. "I am all about celebrating the small victories today." She scooted closer to him, propping herself on her right side to face him as her left hand rested on his hip.

"What victories are those, love?" he asked, welcoming her into the cocoon he had created for himself. "I am always seeking reasons to celebrate."

She grinned as his hand mimicked her own position, each of them following the lead of the other. "Well, for starters you didn't wake me up this morning with that overly cheerful way you do sometimes," she said grinning as he looked a bit annoyed at her observation. Since before they had married he'd greeted her with a smiling good morning that made her wonder if he'd been taking lessons from her mother. She was usually not awake until at least her second cup of coffee, but he managed cheerful on no stimulants at all. He might be angry and menacing the rest of the day, but in the morning he was happy and eager to start. "It's really kind of annoying when you do that."

He pretended to be hurt by her words, sticking out his bottom lip in protest. "Why is it a crime to want to start my day with you?" he asked. "You should thank me that I'm not throwing clothes out of the closet and complaining about early morning calls. I don't think you open your eyes until you've had your caffeine."

"We're a little different in that way," she conceded. "Speaking of caffeine." She pulled her hand back to hold out between them. "Look! No trembling. I have gotten past my caffeine withdrawals."

He chuckled deeply, grabbing her hand back toward his chest. "I would like to think I might have the ability to make your body tremble more than the lack of coffee."

"It's a reason to celebrate," she declared, ignoring his desire for validation. "I thought avoiding caffeine might make me a crazy person and I'm proving myself wrong."

He squeezed her hand under his. "I'm proud of you, darling," he said. "Now are there any other victories for us to celebrate."

Her smile was even bigger. "Yes," she said, scooting even closer. "Did you see the time?"

Lifting his neck, he peered over her at the red numbers of the clock. "7:15, love," he said. "You are celebrating the time?"

"No," she said, her smile barely containing the triumph in her voice. "It's 7:15 and I have not felt sick yet this morning. I'm not saying I won't later or that tomorrow it won't be back, but today I have slept until the alarm went off without the room spinning and without seeing everything I have eaten for the past day make a reappearance."

He smirked at her mock celebration. "That is wonderful," he said. "And no doubt a reason to celebrate, but you have left out an important detail of that victory."

Her face fell as she considered what he could be talking about, the possibilities. "What would that be?" she asked hesitantly.

The flash of mischief in his eyes told her immediately that he was joking, teasing her just to see her reaction. "Why your breath darling," he said. "It is better this morning than it has been after your episodes of morning sickness."

Her mouth flew open and her eyes with it. "You jerk," she proclaimed, letting herself fly onto her back. "Here I was set to enjoy a little time alone with you in bed and you're telling me that I've had bad breath for the past few weeks. You should know there is a high price for insulting your pregnant wife." She folded her arms up on her chest and did her best to look indignant in a flannel night shirt.

"Haven't I already paid those consequences?" he asked, lifting the sheet and blanket with his arm to make a sort of tent over them. "I thought we were celebrating today?"

Her pursed lips twitched as he scooted toward her, his head dipping down toward hers. "I can celebrate alone," she said. "I don't need you to celebrate."

He seemed undeterred by her response, gently humming affirmatively as his mouth traveled up her shoulder, neck, and face until he hovered just above her mouth. He paused there, his eyes meeting her mockingly angry ones. "It is more fun to celebrate together," he reminded her. "Don't you think?"

The pout she had been trying so hard to hold broke into a grin. "Maybe," she said. "That was my original idea this morning." His arm dropped the blankets over them, lowering his hand to trace along her body.

She knew that the smile that would shine on his face in a moment would be one of her favorites, the self-assured man who was confident and full of spirited suggestion. It was the expression she was most used to on his face, one that most associated with him. He had others too. There was the menacing look of the pirate captain that came out in the heat of an argument or usually when he was at his most protective or her or Henry. It was not one that she feared, instead she had come to associate it with his desire to protect what he loved. It was not her favorite, but she did love that he was that way. Sometimes she thought her favorite was the shy smile he would give her when he was still assessing her mood, the uncertain look that she pictured from his childhood. Sometimes it would warm into something even more, a look of awe that crossed his face when he thought nobody could see him.

***KESC***

David picked up the canvas bag and another that his wife had packed, shaking his head at the amount of equipment and various items that she had stuffed into the two bags for their son. "He's spending the night with his sister," he reminded her. "We're not sending him off to camp."

Pulling at her sweater over her waist, Mary Margaret appeared in the doorway and frowned. "You know how he is," she said indignantly. "He is very picky about everything right now, from food to toys. I'm not setting my daughter up to fail because we thought it was too much to carry over there."

"Then why don't we just have her come over here to watch him?" David responded. "It would save us moving all this stuff – twice."

"If moving this stuff, is the only way we get a full night alone, I'm willing to do it," she said. "Besides, it is good practice for Emma."

He almost quipped that Mary Margaret wasn't moving a thing. He had two large tote bags over his shoulder and his son in his other arm. The stroller was already in his wife's car. He'd also be willing to bet that his wife had dropped off food for their son's dinner and breakfast during the weekly shopping trip. "I thought we were trying to encourage her that she's ready for motherhood again," David said as his wife opened the door and looked back at him as though he was the reason they were now 10 minutes late. "According to Ruby and Belle, this guy can be a walking public service announcement for birth control."

"Too late for that," Mary Margaret called, locking the door behind them.

David could see a look of fear on Killian's face as they pulled up and the struggle with Neal began in earnest. The boy, who was usually begging to be let down to walk, had thrown himself into David's grip. When the prince suggested he toddle off to his sister, the child went limp like a boneless sea creature as each limb bobbed and dangled.

Mary Margaret left her husband with the boy's antics, pulling her daughter into a hug and reaching her hand out to pat the non-existent evidence of the baby. "Neal," David said with mock warning, "We need to work on this whole first impression thing. You're going to scare your sister."

Whether it was the idea of scaring someone or if he just felt it necessary, Neal wailed loudly and let fat tears flow down his face.

"He's a little clingy lately," Mary Margaret said in excuse.

"You don't say, mom," Emma said with a laugh, running a consoling hand across Killian's shoulder. "I think I recognize the signs. He's been my brother for a few years."

Emma led them into the apartment, smiling brightly as her mother commented that it looked like she was ready for the toddler. With the help of Google, she had researched safety hazards and paid more attention to the details since it was the first time her brother was staying there. She'd babysat plenty of times, but usually at the loft. On the rare occasions that he was at the apartment, there were plenty of adults to pull him back from the brink of danger.

"Honey," David said, laying the still slack boy down, "I think we need to go." He winked over at his daughter who was dutifully listening to his wife's instructions about food, bedtimes, and the necessity of a nightlight.

"You know they can sense fear," he said lowly to Killian who was still standing by the door. David wondered briefly if the man would try to stow away in their car and escape before the terror began. "You've watched him before. What's the big deal?"

"Bloody hell," Killian said under his breath as the boy threw himself on his stomach and began beating his fists on the floor. He looked hopelessly at Emma who was brushing off her mother's instructions. "Is that normal?"

"Quite," David said, patting his shoulder and calling to his wife before turning back to the pirate. "Have fun."

"Your son had the right idea," Killian told Emma as she dug through one of the bags. "I'd be willing to wager that he had no group project at school."

"He'll get his payback," Emma said, pulling out a book and sitting with her legs crossed on the floor. "I think I'm going to read this book."

Killian traded his gaze between the toddler and his wife. "You're going to read?" He considered for a moment that maybe he was the only one seeing the boy turning purple and red from anger. Was he the only one hearing the escalating wails of discontent? As he considered who exactly to call since his wife was clearly losing her mind, he watched the blonde woman pull the book into her lap and begin reading in a clear voice as if the boy was listening to her. Not even half way through the second page, Neal sat up and quit with the loud sobs. He didn't look at his sister, but it was clear that his focus was on the story. Rapt with attention, he sucked on three of his fingers as his sister recited some tail about a train that as far as Killian could tell was able to talk. That didn't seem normal to Killian either, but the boy slowly moved toward the book and his sister, winding up in her lap before she was done.

Emma did not mention the tantrum, kissing the boy's blotchy and tear streaked face before reminding Killian that he was in charge of dinner for her brother. She'd told him not to bother with anything fancy, as the menu for the night was hotdogs and beans. He was not impressed, but Neal seemed to be as he gobbled them up.

She helped Killian clean the dishes as Neal crawled straight legged with his tush in the air across the floor with a yellow truck in his hand. He honked and roared like the vehicle, including running into both Emma and Killian's feet. After the last of the dishes were done, Emma pulled another of the trucks out of the bag and handed it to Killian. "I read the story," she said wrapping his fingers around the plastic vehicle. "You can play demolition derby."

To her surprise, Killian did not protest. He was down on the ground attempting to imitate his borther-in-law's sounds and add a few of his own that he had heard with Emma's car. The two drove the vehicles under tables, over couches, around the fireplace, and back again as Emma watched silently. She'd told Killian to do this, but part of her had not imagined seeing him so easily fit in with the game.

Killian even found himself roped into bath time with Emma insisting that with his history as a sailor and a pirate that he was a natural for a job with water. "I'm not sure how clean he got, but he enjoyed the experience," she laughed when her brother used a plastic cup to dump water over Killian's head.

But even Killian had to admit that they were both still standing and with few injuries after the boy was snug in Henry's bed. He seemed much less threatening with his eyes closed and his arms splayed up over his head – a position that Emma said was instinctive to her as a child too.

Emma was tossing the trucks and books into the bag that Mary Margaret had packed and gave Killian her proudest look. "We've survived the evening," she said. "I wasn't so sure."

Killian bent to fetch one of the boy's toys from under the couch. "You doubted it?" he asked. "I did, but I thought you might be more confident."

She laughed lightly, taking the toy from him. Reaching into her pocket she pulled out a stack of five printed pages. "I looked those up on the computer," she confessed. "I printed them out and had them handy for when I didn't know what to do. Thankfully each suggestion worked."

"Thankfully," he echoed. "I've always said you were bloody brilliant."

She folded the pages back, stuffing them back in the pocket of her jeans. "So I don't want to jinx us since we still have to get through the night and breakfast in the morning, but do you feel any better about the whole fatherhood thing?"

Killian's smile fell a little. "I should have worked through those feelings before we considered having a child," he said. "Alas I can't say that I am comfortable yet, but we are making progress." He kissed her cheek gently. "As good as a team as we make, there were a few rough moments tonight."

Emma considered that, remembering the struggle to get her brother in his pajamas, including telling him that they were identical to the ones that Henry was wearing at Regina's that very night. "I did wonder about using magic to get him in his pajamas and into bed," she admitted. "I know that magic comes with a price, but I think in some cases it might be worth it."


	9. Chapter 9

_**I hope you enjoy the Snow and Charming date night. I needed to do some fluff before the next chapter or two.**_

Mary Margaret slipped off the shoes she was wearing and braved the cold to sink her toes into the sand, winking at her husband as they stood looking over the gentle waves lapping at the shoreline. It was not the most original of date night moments, but she had to admit that her husband was trying to give her the chance to enjoy the night without their son.

"I forbid any talk of children, pregnancy, or grandchildren," he told her when she asked what he had planned for them. "This is purely an adult night with adult conversation."

"So we're going to talk about our taxes, the local elections, and how badly I need a car with fewer miles on it?" she had teased.

She had promised both him and Emma that she wouldn't call to check in on Neal, despite her mind's penchant for assuming the worst in these situations. Her daughter had her number and would call only if necessary. For a moment she considered paying Killian off to snap photos to text her during the evening, but she decided that was a big task for a man who still struggled to dial the phone.

"It's a bit cold to have our dinner here," David said, breaking her out of her thoughts. "But I thought we would be more comfortable with an indoor picnic."

"Indoor picnic?" she asked, slipping back into her shoes. "Doesn't that break the rules of what a picnic is supposed to be anyway?"

David winked at her and grabbed her hand, pulling her along with him up the steps toward the parking area. "I'm trying to give us the best of both worlds," he explained. "We've had our walk on the beach. Now we'll have dinner. And then maybe we can watch a movie with no cartoon characters, singing animals, or anything that is in anyway appropriate for children."

She laughed as she slid the seatbelt over her and clicked it into place. "I wouldn't mind any of those movies if we could actually get through it without someone having a tantrum or getting bored."

When they passed the turn off for the loft and the parking spots for Granny's, Mary Margaret got a bit suspicious, but even more so when they pulled up in front of the library. "Why are we…"

David threw the truck into park and placed a finger of her lips. "No questions," he said. "I told you that I was taking care of everything and I am. Trust me."

She looked very much like Emma as she gave him her most suspicious side eye, kissing the pad of his finger and getting out of the truck. "Fine, but I didn't bring my library card," she told him. "And I'm pretty sure I have some overdue fines."

"We'll take care of that," David laughed and opened the door for her. "Belle is holding us a spot right now."

The library was empty, as Belle had taken to her winter hours and no longer remained open on Friday evenings. Only a few scattered lights were on, including the one at the reference desk where the young woman sat flipping through a thick volume as she waited. David cleared his throat and rose her from her studies.

"You're here," she said, closing the book and placing it in the crook of her arm. "I've got everything set for you. Here are the keys to lock up. It's an extra set so just get them back to me tomorrow. Ruby dropped off your dinner. It's back where you instructed."

David nodded and again led his wife through the maze of shelves and displays to a corner that had been decorated just for them. He felt her stop short as she noticed the specific decorations. A large paper mural had been hung over the bookshelf with a water color painting of their home in the Enchanted Forest stretched across it. The attempt was not as accurate or detailed as he had hoped, but it was a gift from her former students. He'd brought over an array of blankets and pillows earlier to spread out on the floor to make for the perfect picnic spot and even smuggled in candles with the promise to Belle that none of the wax would mar the floors or the books. Ruby had delivered a meal that would have been fit for royalty back in the Enchanted Forest. Not a usual menu item, Granny had agreed to make it special with the promise that they would be using both her restaurant and catering services for the upcoming party that Mary Margaret was planning with Emma.

"You know we could have just ate at the diner," Mary Margaret said as he assisted her down to one of the plump pillows to sit. "I would have been just as happy."

"We won't be disturbed here," he told her as he began unpacking the box that Ruby had left. "When I asked you what you wanted for tonight the first word you mentioned was quiet. You can't get more quiet than a library."

Mary Margaret laughed as he held out a bottle of grape juice as if it were an expensive wine. "I think I said quiet about six times in my description, glad you were listening." She held out the crystal glass that he had placed in front of her, letting him fill it with the dark liquid.

Once the plates were filled, Mary Margaret dipped her fork into the food and waited for her husband to do the same. However, he was distractedly looking about them and finally smiled as he saw what he wanted. "Wait right here," he told her. Struggling to his feet, he ran over the wall and flipped on the twinkle lights that had been strung over their heads to a resulting gasp from his wife. "You haven't seen anything yet," he promised, reaching behind the mural on one of the shelves where he had hidden a sound machine that blasted out the sounds of a babbling brook, birds singing, and other nature sounds. The brunette giggled at her husband's efforts.

"Do we need to watch out for rain?" she asked. "Or ogres?"

"I think we're safe tonight," he laughed in return. "If not, I'll protect you."

"I thought we protect each other," she said, mockingly waving a piece of the lamb in front of him. "No damsels in distress here."

"Touché," he replied.

They breathed in the familiar scents of the meal and savored each tangy morsel on their tongues. The conversation was light other than a brief and good natured dispute over what dish had they had for their wedding dinner. Deciding that Mary Margaret was right about the meat and David was right about the dessert, the two agreed to disagree on the rest. Both tried to abide by David's rules of no baby or pregnancy talk, including talk of either of their children. However, it was harder than either realized. When Mary Margaret studied the mural more closely she realized that some of the brush techniques were similar to a finger painting that Neal had done a few weeks earlier. When David brought up plans for the next week, he realized that he was talking about Emma and Henry.

"We should be fined each time," Mary Margaret joked. "We could be rich by the end of the weekend and take a trip some place special."

"Where would you like to go?" David asked, leaning back against the pillow and motioning for her to join him. "If there were no barriers on the town line or no issues with portals, where would be your dream location?"

His wife snuggled into the space beside him and sighed. "I don't know," she said, pushing her now empty plate away. "We've traveled a lot in terms of going between realms and even throughout the Enchanted Forest. But we never really had a honeymoon where we could just relax and be together without all the worries of daily life. I don't know where that would be though."

David looked thoughtful for a moment. "You think there is a place we could get away from everything for more than an evening, even if it meant not being near you know who?"

"Since we're speaking of dreams, yes, I'm sure there is," Mary Margaret laughed. "Realistically, probably not. But it is nice to think of a honeymoon location. Maybe something tropical."

"I like the sound of that. Beaches, hammocks, palm trees, you name it, I like the sound of that." He raised them both up to sitting. "One problem with this idea," he said.

"Other than not being able to cross the town line and return?" she asked, unsure where he was going with this. "Not as bad as losing our memories or being turned into flying monkeys, but it is a concern."

"No," he said. "We haven't had a wedding."

She craned her neck to look at him, startled at the thoughtful but concerned expression on his face. "David," she said carefully. "We've had two."

"Yes, but neither of them were here," he said. "I was married to someone else during the curse, but we never made things official for us here."

"David, we've been married for years," she reminded him, running her hand along the side of his face to have him look at her. "We have children. We've been telling people we're married. I use your last name. What else do we have to do?"

"We could have a ceremony here in Storybrooke," he said, as if he had just invented something incredible. "That's what we should do so that we can really make it official."

She pulled away from him, turning around to face him. Her legs curled under her as the yellow and white dress she wore draped over her. "Were you drinking actual wine while I was drinking grape juice?" she asked. "This is crazy. We're married."

"Are you saying you don't want to marry me again?" David asked.

"I'm saying this is crazy," she responded. "We have a two year old, a baby on the way, a grown daughter with her own baby on the way, jobs, responsibilities, and so much we haven't even talked about right now. For instance, where are we going to live? The loft isn't meant for us to raise a family in it. Should we look for a house? Or a car that will fit all of us comfortably? Should I work after the baby is born because it is hard enough raising Neal when we're both juggling schedules? Is Emma going back to the station after the baby is born? Should I offer to babysit for our grandchild? And in the middle of all this, you want to plan a wedding? Are you mad?"

She watched his expression go from thoughtful, to proud, to elated, to disappointed. "I feel like I should apologize," he said. "I truly thought you'd like the idea. I should have thought of it earlier. After watching you plan Emma's wedding – even with her kicking and screaming that she didn't want it – I saw how much you missed out on by us not having a wedding here. So I just thought it would be something you would want, but you're right. It's too much to plan with everything."

Mary Margaret sighed, her shoulders slumping a little. "It's not a terrible idea," she said, the corners of her mouth turning up into a smile. "I'm not opposed to it. We could plan something that includes all of our friends. Emma and Henry could both be in it. Neal might be a little young, but we could find a place for him in it. Where to have it though? Is there…"

"Wait!" David laughed, placing both hands on her shoulders. "You just told me it was too much and now you're talking about locations."

"Have you never dealt with a pregnant woman before?" she asked. "We change our minds very quickly. If we're going to do this, we need to do it soon. I don't want to shop for a maternity wedding dress."

"So wait, we're getting married again?" he asked, trying to catch up with her train of thought.

"If you ever get around to proposing to me."

_**Please review - give me a distraction from my real life to write some more.**_


	10. Chapter 10

**_Note: I did not mean to start a debate over whether or not Snow and Charming are married in Storybrooke. I did not even have them agreeing on the issue. For the record, yes, I think they do consider themselves to be married. If they didn't, she would have insisted on it prior to delivering Neal. _**

**_The lines of what counts and doesn't in EF vs. Storybrooke are a little blurry so I can see how they would wonder themselves sometimes. I just added the wedding in there because I thought it would be something that Snow would enjoy doing for the third time. She's a much more socially outgoing person than Emma so she would enjoy the idea of celebrating anything. _**

In the weeks that passed, Mary Margaret was in pure planning mode. From the party she wanted to share with Emma to the wedding she was planning with David, the Nolan household was overrun with decorations and samples of invitations that all had to be boxed away any time that Neal was awake. She learned that lesson when Neal had colored in green marker all over a set of place card samples.

"You'll be the matron of honor," Mary Margaret told her instead of asking. "I've already found the perfect dress in a pretty light shade of blue."

"I hope you don't expect me to wear a frilly matron of honor dress in my condition," Emma complained during the noon time walks to the two women had started as a way to keep Dr. Whale happy about their activity and exercise levels. "You're talking about being 20 weeks when you have this ceremony, but I'll be 24 weeks and well beyond just a cute bulge if I keep growing at this rate." Blonde ponytail bouncing, she pointed to the already noticeable protrusion and sighed. "I know second time is different, but I didn't show with Henry until much later. I'm practically living in leggings and sweat pants at this point. It's not a cute look and I dread what I'll be like by the end. I miss my jeans, but they are already starting to leave marks when I wear them."

"Emma," her mother said. "It's not that bad. Plus nobody's even said anything to you yet."

"Actually Granny told me that I'm getting too big for seconds," Emma said. "I guess it will be good for people to know soon. I'm not thrilled that people just think I'm overeating."

At 15 weeks, Emma was clearly progressing and had staved off her mother's party plans for another two weeks until both of them were either in or entering their second trimesters. Killian had done much better in the recent weeks by not telling anyone or in his words, "allowing them to guess." David had only slipped up twice when they were working a case and he said something about her condition, but nobody seemed to notice.

"I'm thinking green," her mother said, stepping out of the way of a group of speed walkers. "It's neutral enough to be good for a boy or a girl."

Emma paused to measure her mother's words, realizing finally that she meant the nursery. "Oh," she answered, "that's a smart idea. I don't know that we've talked about colors yet. I thought we'd wait to find out boy or girl."

Her mother looked positively aghast. "You're going to wait for the baby to be born before you paint the nursery and decide on the décor?"

"Well," Emma said, unsure what had upset her mother about that particular statement, "I wasn't going to wait that long. We'll have the ultrasound in a few weeks and find out the sex of the baby. Then we'll be able to make those decisions."

The former teacher clenched and unclenched her fists as the ascended the sharp incline on their usual path. While it made both of them breathe a little harder, it was also a good sign because it meant they were near the end of their route. "You don't want to be surprised?" she asked. "That's one of the best things. I mean I knew with you because of your grandmother's necklace and then what Rumpelstiltskin had told us, but still. There's nothing better than…"

"I want to know," Emma said. "And so does Killian. It is just easier that way."

Mary Margaret looked extremely disappointed, but she smiled anyway and began chattering about maybe doing a reveal cake that would show pink or blue depending on the baby's sex. Emma immediately began to nix the idea, sensing that her mother was once again planning some extravagant party that she would have to be center of attention during and would go way out of control.

"I'm headed back to the office, can I drop you off?" her mother asked, climbing up into her vehicle. Emma usually walked or ran from the station to the park and back again as additional exercise, her body used to the strain in her line of work. "You look tired."

Emma rolled her eyes and walked around the car. "When people say that, it's usually an insult," she said. "But I'll take you up on your offer. Just drop me at work please."

The two women were dissecting the list of invitees for the next party as Mary Margaret drove through town and past the familiar sights of Storybrooke. She flipped on her turn signal to ready herself for a left turn onto the road leading to both the mayoral suite of offices and station. Coming to a stop, Mary Margaret moved forward and had almost completed the turn when the truck slammed into the driver's side of the vehicle. Emma could sit it in slow motion, calling out to her mother as both women were jostled and jolted in their seats, the strong fabric of the seatbelts pulling them back into place with a biting ferocity.

"Mom?" Emma called out as the vehicle skidded and bounced against the curb. "Mom? Are you alright?"

Her mother winced as she pushed back from the steering wheel and stared at the door that was now pressing against her. "I think so," she said, her voice trembling as much as her body at this point. "I didn't even see him coming."

Years of law enforcement experience at hand, Emma reached over and threw the vehicle gear into park and yanked off her own seat belt. "Sit right there," she told her. "I'm going to check the damage." She climbed out and circled the car, finding the other driver unhurt and crying over the incident. Just a teenager, he had only been driving a few weeks and was ghostly white at the idea that he had been at fault. Handing him an unopened bottle of water from her mother's car, Emma checked back on her mother and realized that her mother was still sitting prone in her seat with both hands on the steering wheel. "I don't think you're going to be able to open your door," Emma told her. "You'll need to crawl out on this side. Can you do it? Or do I need to help you?"

Mary Margaret complied with her daughter's instructions, tentatively moving across the console and setting a shaking foot on the sidewalk. "I have my purse some place," she said, her hand flailing to reach it.

"I'll get it," Emma said, bracing her mother's arm. "Are you sure you're alright? No pain or…"

The brunette stumbled in her movement, almost toppling over. Emma held her up. "I'm a little dizzy," she admitted, grasping her daughter's forearm and letting her lead her over to a bench outside the flower shop. Emma rushed back to the car and grabbed her mother's bag.

"Call Dad and tell him that we're taking you to the hospital. It'll be faster if he comes here." She was speaking very slowly and deliberately, trying to keep her mother's gaze locked. "Your phone is right there."

Emma slid a finger across her own phone and called ahead to the hospital to prepare them for their arrival. While disconnecting the call, she glanced back at Mary Margaret who was staring blankly at the phone. "Mom?"

"There's no dial tone," her mother said in a confused tone. "I can't make a call without a dial tone."

Emma winced and dialed her father's number, asking him to hurry and bring her car with him. Her own muscles were already beginning to tighten and a sharp pain in her back worried her as she knelt down beside Mary Margaret. "It's fine," she said, taking the phone from her hand. "Dad will be here in a minute. I'm going to go get some information from this kid. Are you okay to sit here?"

The brunette nodded and Emma walked over to the high school senior who was sure his parents were going to kill him. She gathered the information she needed and suggested that he call his parents and she would call for a tow truck for her mother's car. His was thankfully still drivable. Emma watched her mother lean back on the bench and close her eyes, her hand protectively going over her lower abdomen. As Emma finished the request for a tow, her father came whipping around the corner in her yellow car. She wondered if there was about to be another accident as he almost skidded into the damaged vehicles.

"Snow!" he called out, tripping over his own feet to get to her. Emma could not hear what he said, but could see the worry and grief evident in his eyes. Lifting her up, despite her vehement protests, he carried her to Emma's car and let Emma open the passenger door to let him place her inside. "What about you?" he asked. "We need to get you checked out too."

Emma's brave face cracked a bit as she saw her father's concern directed at her. "I'm fine," she said, almost calling him daddy in that moment. "I'll finish up here and get a ride over to…"

"No," he said, grabbing his wife's keys out of her hands and dashing across the street to the pharmacy. He emerged not 45 seconds later and told her to get in the car too. "Tom's going to take care of the car and the tow. He'll call me if there are any problems."

Emma's hand was clenched around her phone, her own face pale under the stress of the situation. Allowing her father to guide her to the back of her own car, she gasped when he placed a hand on her back. Observing at her with unease, he simply nodded to himself that he was right to take her with them.

Dr. Whale was waiting with a team of professionals when they arrived, instructing each to take the women to exam rooms. Between the directions, he tried to tell each that they would be fine.

Emma insisted that David go with her mother, knowing that she needed him more at that moment. "I'm fine," she said, as she saw the pain, worry, and indecision on her father's face. "I'll call Killian and I won't be alone here. Go. She's probably worried out of her mind right now." He kissed her temple and promised to be back momentarily.

Dodging a volunteer with a food cart, he arrived to see his wife staring at a monitor and her hands nervously clutching the sheets. Dr. Whale was speaking to her as a spindly little woman performed an ultrasound. He slid up next to his wife and pulled her closest hand from the sheet to sandwich between both of his.

"The pain you're feeling," Dr. Whale was asking, "is it more of a cramping pain or something sharper?"

Mary Margaret attempted to describe the sensation as others called out numbers for her blood pressure, temperature, pulse rate, and oxygen levels. Assured that there was no bleeding and that the baby's heart rate appeared fine, she felt herself lean toward her husband with a comforted sigh. "So the baby is okay?"

"Everything is looking good," the doctor said. "I want to monitor you for a little bit because your blood pressure did spike, but that's to be expected. We'll also get someone in here to check out any other injuries you might have while I go check on your daughter."

The technician finished up and offered to let them hear the baby's heartbeat, which immediately made Mary Margaret smile. It was somewhat of a new experience for her with her other two pregnancies taking place primarily in the Enchanted Forest. The fast thumping sound echoed in the room, which according to the technician was perfectly normal.

"Emma said she and Killian are going to find out the sex of their baby during the ultrasound in a few weeks," Mary Margaret told David when they were alone. "I never even thought…"

"We have a few weeks to decide about that," he interrupted. "You do realize that you don't have to do everything all at once."

She nodded, leaning back on the stiff pillow of the bed. "Go check on Emma, please," she said. "I'm fine. You go be dad now, okay?"

David kissed her forehead. "You two are really alike," he said. "She sent me down here to you and now you're sending me to her. Let's let Whale get finished first though. I'll check on her in a bit."

Mary Margaret sulked for a moment and then nodded. "I guess I can put up with you a bit longer," she said. "You can help with the menu for the party. Emma says she doesn't care, but I was thinking about Mexican food."

"You know me," David said, laughing at how quickly she shifted gears. "I love cheesy, cheap, and easy."

Down the hall the doctor was asking Emma just the same questions as the group read out the same numbers. She answered as best she could, explaining that it was a pain in her lower back rather than her abdomen and asking when she could go home.

"Shortly," the doctor told her as he instructed the technician to get a better view. "Your numbers are remarkably steady for a woman who was just in an accident. Much better than I would have thought."

Killian, who had arrived only seconds before the doctor, stood as David had near the head of the bed and tried to stay out of the way as his wife was poked and prodded. If she flinched, he did too. If she questioned something, he silently did as well.

"I think we can mark you down as incredibly lucky," Dr. Whale said, checking his phone for a message about lab results on another patient. "Once Heather is done with the ultrasound…"

"Dr. Whale?" Heather said, her voice no longer muted and calm as it had been when she'd told Emma to scoot down. "I'm seeing something here I need you to confirm."

The doctor's exasperated sigh was punctuated by his hand on the technician's shoulder. He leaned toward the monitor and said something low under his breath. Heather pointed toward an area. "A is measuring normally," she said, "as is B."

"We didn't pick this up before?" Victor asked, ignoring Emma's questions for a moment. "Usually this presents at…"

"We missed it," Heather said simply, snapping another photo to save.

"How did we miss it?" Victor asked. "It appears to be pretty clear. No doubt about it."

"Sometimes it isn't," Heather bit back, rotating the device in her hand. "See from this angle you can't see as well, but when I move it back it is obvious." She looked over her shoulder at him and made a face. "Don't blame me."

"What exactly did you miss?" Emma interrupted, her head and shoulders coming up off the bed. "Is there are problem with the baby? With me?"

Killian leaned forward over the railing of the bed to peer at the monitor as if he could discern this mystery himself. Seeing nothing but a random bunch of lines and movement, he settled back and looked to his wife for an interpretation of whatever what happening.

"You're fine," the doctor said. "Heather here just seems to have an issue with counting."

Emma's eyebrows were practically in her hairline as she waited impatiently for an explanation. Under the glare of the harsh florescent lights, she seemed to seethe and Dr. Whale actually took a step back as if to protect himself. One nod to her husband and he could have been on the floor.

Heather looked apologetically at the expectant parents. "Both you and the babies are doing fine," she said, jerking her head in a gesture toward Dr. Whale. "I'd say you are pretty darn lucky that all three of you are fine."

Feeling Killian's hand relax a bit with news that she was fine, Emma did not immediately react. She turned the words over and looked first at the monitor, then at Dr. Whale, then at Heather, and back at the monitor. "Babies?" she asked. "I'm going to assume you aren't talking about my baby and my mother's baby, right? You're seeing two babies?"

Heather smiled hesitantly. "Here and here," she said, pointing a long finger to the screen. "Their heart rates look good. Size and position are great. We'll get a better look at your next appointment. In the meantime keep up what you've been doing. Plenty of healthy food, exercise, and rest when you need it, right Dr. Whale?" Dr. Whale confirmed that things looked good and that there was nothing to worry about, cautioning her that she should be cognizant of her pain levels and let them know if she was still sore from the accident.

She tore her eyes away from the screen and back to Killian who seemed to be comprehending the news better than she thought. Hearing that it was fine for her to get dressed and that they would be in with her paperwork, the blonde pushed herself up into sitting position. "I was not expecting that," she breathed. "Are you okay?"

"I'm not the one in a hospital bed," Killian answered, looking to the darkened screen of the ultrasound. "Were we actually seeing them? Inside you?" His hand hovered over her abdomen. "Was that what they look like now?"

Emma nodded, her own eyes going to the screen as if it might turn back on any moment. "That was them," she muttered. "Them…two…Oh crap."

Killian looked back toward her, searching her confused expression for some sort of confirmation as to how she expected him to react. "This isn't news you wanted to hear?" he asked softly.

"I just wasn't expecting it," she said. "I was expecting bad news. I was thinking that my luck wouldn't hold out. I was expecting news like the baby has two heads or an extra arm. I wasn't expecting to hear that I have not one but two babies growing inside me." She looked at him critically. "You need to sit down. You look worse than I feel at the moment and that's pretty bad."

"I'm fine, love," he said, joining her as she scooted over. "I am still a bit shocked at this news."

"You and me both," she said through clenched teeth. "You do realize how much harder this is going to be, right? Double everything…"

"Is now the time that we panic?" he asked, almost teasing.

"Why couldn't this be my mother?" she pondered as she swung her legs off the bed. "My mother could handle this. My mother would be celebrating. My mother…" She reached for the clothing that she had laid over the back of a chair and began to pull it on. "I want to see my mom."

"The doctor said she was doing well, along with your new sibling."

Emma closed her eyes and shook her head. "My mother is going to freak out."

**_Note: I went back and forth on giving Emma twins. As a mother of twins, this was actually how I found out about the news. I had a fender bender and during the hospital check they just told me. I was in shock. _**

**_From a story standpoint, it made more sense to me to give Emma twins for two reasons. First, she would be likely to not have another child unlike Mary Margaret who I could see having several children. Second, Emma's dealing with twins will be more of a journey compared to Mary Margaret who would freak out and then be excited. So there is more of a story to tell there. That's my reasoning anyway. _**


	11. Chapter 11

**_Notes: Thank you all for your feedback, favorites, etc., as they really are motivating to me and help me continue this story. I'm really excited about some of the upcoming stuff for it and hope you are too. _**

Emma reached over to grab her little brother's plate before it fell to the floor of the diner, calling even more attention to them than his sing-song voice telling every single person who passed hello. Her mother smiled gratefully for the save.

"Are you sure you're feeling alright?" Mary Margaret asked for the second time in five minutes.

"Quite sure," Emma answered, dipping a fry in a bit of the ketchup on her plate and dragging it through the red condiment. "Nothing broken, only bruised."

"And the baby?" her mother asked. "The baby's fine, right?"

Emma looked down at her plate and cringed as she saw that she had now completely devoured a hamburger, fries, a pickle, and a side of slaw that had looked so good when someone else ordered it that she had to try it herself. She didn't even remember eating it all.

"Fine," she answered, avoiding the term baby or its plural term. "We're fine. And so are you and my new brother or sister."

"I was worried," her mother said, touching her daughter's forearm. "I can't believe I didn't even see him coming. I would have swerved or something."

"You weren't at fault," she reassured her. "He wasn't paying attention and ran a stop sign."

Her mother stirred her water with her straw and gazed down at the colliding ice cubes. "You'd tell me if something was wrong, wouldn't you, Emma?" her mother asked, voice cracking. "I know I've been a little unstable what with the accident and all, but I'm just worried about you. So be honest with me."

Emma groaned with frustration boiling under the surface. She and Killian had discussed it, deciding that since they missed out on telling her parents of the pregnancy that maybe they could tell them together about expecting twins. However, her mother's pleadingly sorrowful eyes and obvious worry was troublesome and guilt-inducing. "Mom, I'm being honest," she said. "You are worrying for nothing. We're fine."

The door to the diner was open to a chilly blast of air as David stepped inside and stomped his feet on the rug. "There are both my girls," he said with a grin. "I was hoping to catch you."

Emma looked at him suspiciously, as her father rarely used such language with them. He was loving and attentive, but as a rule had not been overly affectionate. It might have been the similar age thing or the fact that they had not known of her or seen her for 28 years, but there was always that bit of a wall there that prevented them from a normal dynamic despite how hard they tried.

He swooped toward Emma's plate for a fry, coming up empty since she had eaten the last one. Eye brows raised in a silent sign of condemnation and question, he shook his head and continued. "So I think I have found a house," he said. "I was patrolling over near the school and they were putting the for sale sign up."

"Someone's selling a house in Storybrooke?" she asked. "With people unable to leave I thought the market was pretty much locked."

David shrugged off the question and faced his wife. "I'm not sure of the details, but it looks perfect from the outside. We could go look this afternoon?"

Mary Margaret's eyes lit up with the thought, but her expression faded. "I've got two meetings and a playgroup thing to plan," she said gloomily. "I'd love to see it though."

"Real estate goes so fast in this town," David mentioned. "We need to move fast on it."

Emma grabbed her mother's planner from in front of her and flipped to the marked page. "Okay," she said, running her finger along the page. "One of your meetings is with me about the school crossing zones. We can talk about that at lunch next week. And the other meeting is with Tom about the green initiative for downtown. It's weeks before we'll even think of planting anything so postpone it."

"And the playgroup planning?" her mother said with a glint in her eyes.

"I'm going to have to cover Dad's shift so you guys can go look," Emma reminded her. "And I can promise you that Killian is not up for another visit from my brother, Neal 'the Tornado' Nolan let alone all his little friends. So my suggestion is that you postpone that too or you work in your house search before or after it."

***AAA***

David warned Mary Margaret not to show any signs that she interested in the property, as that would certainly affect their bargaining power. With that warning in mind, he was slightly amused at the way she tried to communicate with him with nonverbal cues. There were the thumbs up signs behind the realtor's back and the looks of contentment as they saw the bedrooms – one of which was already painted pink for a girl's nursery.

"We don't know that we are having a girl," he whispered to her as the realtor marched ahead to access the attic he swore was just right for finishing.

"I know," Mary Margaret said with a sigh. "I just know."

David sighed in return, knowing better than to argue with her when her mind was set on something. Time would tell if she was right. Pausing to look in the hallway bathroom and its condition, he heard the familiar chime of his cell phone. It was probably Emma, he thought. He knew that his wife had been covertly texting their daughter photos of the house to which Emma was probably responding to him to tell her to stop. Glancing down at the screen, he choked back his laughter. While his wife was no more than 10 feet away, she was texting him that she loved the house. All her letters were in caps. A few minutes later she texted him again, stating that it was perfect and in their price range.

A little bit later they stood on the front porch with hands entwined as they waited on the realtor to finish talking to the seller. "Do you think…"

"We'll find out," David assured her. "Let's just hope they accept our offer." He tried to read the realtor's body language, but was not finding too many clues as to the status.

"That front bedroom is perfect for Neal," she continued. "The other one will be great for the new baby. Maybe we could finish off the attic and make it a playroom that could become…"

David bent his head down to kiss her, trying to silence her plans and protect her from possible disappointment if the property did not come to them. She wound both her arms around his waist and under his jacket for warmth, resting her head against his chest as they continued to wait.

"We'll need new furniture for the living room. Our current stuff won't fit in with this style of a house. I'm thinking something in blue maybe or burgundy would be pretty. It will have to be durable what with Neal and this one. Plus our grandchild coming over with Henry."

"We don't have the house yet," he reminded her without much enthusiasm.

"I know," she said. "But I want to be ready. So new furniture for the living room and the nursery. We'll need to see about a dining room table since the house has both a dining room and an eat in kitchen. Maybe Marco can help us there."

"I'm surprised you haven't already texted him," David teased. "You're sure about this house, aren't you?"

"Of course," she said, twisting her neck to look back through the bay window. "It's perfect for a family like ours. Can't you just see family dinners and everyone together here? The backyard is perfect for our children to play. The bedrooms are just the right size. They're perfect. The whole house is…"

"Perfect?" He pulled her a little tighter. "I wish he'd hurry up, the temperature is dropping fast and I'd like to get you out of this weather."

"I guess we could wait in the truck," she mused as David signaled that was just what they would be doing. He warmed the cab with the truck's heater as she continued to mentally decorate the house with current and wanted furniture.

Finally the realtor knocked on the window and he lowered it with a hopeful smile. "Well?" David asked.

"Congratulations," he said. "They accepted your offer."

***AAA***

Emma nosed her car into one of the last parking spots, and tried to race inside before the sleet that was predicted for that evening actually hit. She'd already made her rounds and even completed a radio interview to warn residents of adverse road conditions. She had to smile at the completely domestic scene in the apartment's living area. Killian was fussing over a pot of his own creation that he liked to call Sailor's Stew – a mix of seafood and different vegetables that he always kept secret and would never confirm even when she accurately guessed. Henry was reading a book for school, his shoes off and beside the couch, he was laid back on a pillow with one leg folded up over the knee of the other to hold the book in place. A fire was already burning in the fireplace insert and a few of the room's lamps blazed with soft light to combat the grayness outside.

"Home just in time," Killian said, wrapping his arms around her middle and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Dinner's almost ready."

"He made his secret stew," Henry announced, turning a page lazily. "The government should hire him for the CIA or something. He was trying to distract me so I wouldn't see what went in there."

Emma leaned back against Killian's chest and giggled at her son's frustration that seemed jaded and uninterested even now. "I get dinner as soon as I walk in the door and I don't have to cook," she said. "That sounds good to me and it isn't even take out from Granny's."

The timer on the oven interrupted and Killian released her to check on the bread warming in it. Dropping the uninteresting mail onto the table, Emma moved over to the couch her son was occupying and plopped down on the remaining cushion. He nudged her with his foot as a way of saying hello, keeping his eyes trained on the pages of _Catcher in the Rye._

"When's the test?" she asked, opening the one interesting envelope from the stack of mostly junk mail. When he only raised an eyebrow at her and groaned, she nudged his foot with her elbow. "Come on. You're cramming."

He closed the book, leaving his hand inside to hold his place. "There's a quiz tomorrow and I sort of forgot to read the five chapters we were assigned."

She tilted her head to question him. "That's your best subject," she reminded him. "Don't tell me that you're slacking off."

"I'm not," he promised. "I just got distracted." His face contorted and flushed as he told her that, fidgeting a little to boot.

"Care to elaborate, kid?" she asked. "Or am I to guess that the dance at your school next week has anything to do with this?" She watched his complexion go from a light pink to a dark red. "Come on, I get your cell phone bill. You've been texting Grace several times a day. Somehow I don't think it is a coincidence."

Henry opened his book back up, lifting it closer to his face to demonstrate his dedication to the task. "I'm reading," he said. "Gotta study."

Emma laughed and went back to reading the mail item. "We're not finished, but you get a reprieve while you study."

She carried the folded paper over to Killian and placed it on the counter before him. "The hospital has a class starting soon for parents to be," she told him. "I know I said I didn't want to do the whole birthing class thing, but I was looking and this seems interesting."

He wiped his hand on the nearby towel and lifted the paper to better see the words printed across it. Holding it out a bit from his face, he rolled his eyes as Emma snickered. "What's so amusing love?"

"You're such an old man sometimes," she teased. "Holding a paper out at arm's length to read it is a sign you might need glasses. Do we need to get you an appointment for that? Maybe a hearing test too?"

"The light," he said, pointing upward with his hook, "is exceptionally dim in this room."

"You grew up with oil lamps, lanterns, and candles," she countered. "That light is like the sun."

"Do you want me to read this or not?" he asked, mock sternness on his face.

"Be my guest." Reaching forward, she lifted the lid on the pot of stew and peered in expectantly. He swatted at her playfully. "Pulling out the hook. Must be serious." She laughed back leaned back against the low counter. "But seriously, the class doesn't sound that bad. You'll even get to practice some of the things we've talked about like diapers and feeding."

"Will we get to shop for school supplies together like you do with Henry?" he asked. "New pencils and paper?" He had witnessed this earlier in the year when Emma took on that responsibility in exchange for Regina scheduling sports physicals and buying athletic equipment. He'd been a little shocked at the sheer volume of supplies when he had not carried so many to his few years of school as a boy.

Lowering the paper, he pulled her close, tipping his head back to look down at her upturned face. She laughed. "What do you want?" she asked. "A lunchbox? A backpack?" When he pretended to contemplate it, she continued to tease him. "Why am I picturing us in the back of the classroom getting in trouble for not paying attention? You're going to be a bad influence on me, aren't you?"

"I'll have you know that I was an excellent student," he told her. "My marks were always exemplary."

"Maybe I'll be the bad influence on you then," she said. "I'll cause the trouble and blame it on you so that you have to stay after in detention."


	12. Chapter 12

Mary Margaret flipped the thick end of the tie over the thin, standing back to admire her husband. "I think I like this one best," she said, snapping a quick picture with her cell phone.

"Does that mean we can go watch television or even go to bed early?" her husband asked. So far she had tried 16 ties on him for the events they had coming up. Each one was scrutinized, evaluated, rejected or re-evaluated. "I've never considered myself a tie model."

"Wait until I decide on your shirts," Mary Margaret said, smoothing her hand down the silky material of the tie. His groan was too adorable, making her wink at him in return. "Maybe not tonight though."

He couldn't help pulling her in for a kiss, slow and sweet before she pushed him away with both palms flat against his chest. "Don't," she squealed, hoping that she didn't wake up a sleeping toddler. "We don't want to ruin your tie."

Keeping one hand around her waist, he reached up to loosen the tie around his neck and yank it off. "No excuse now," he said in a low tone. His mouth lowered to the spot just below her ear, nipping at it in an attempt to distract her from the ceremony invitations, the menu for the party at Granny's, and the packing supplies for moving that she was currently stressing out over. He knew that the protests were right under the surface, the excuses that they did not have time for anything else.

"David," she said, her squirming weak as her arms wound around his neck. "You are a bad influence."

"A horrible one," he agreed. "The worst."

Emma frowned as she looked at the SUV, her foot tapping impatiently on the ground and her fingers lacing and unlacing. The man was extolling all of its benefits, the features, the upgrades, and the little luxuries that she cared nothing about.

"If this isn't the one," Killian started. "We can look at something else."

She shook her head and peered into the windows at the leather interior state of the art sound system. It even had a DVD player for the back seats. It was a good deal, a perfect vehicle for a family with twin infants and a teenage son. Emma knew the arguments, as she had been making them to herself since the moment she learned that she was carrying not one but two babies. Still she frowned as she looked at the box shaped vehicle.

"Love?" he asked, concerned that she was upset. "What is the matter?"

"I've had my car forever," she said. "Neal and I…I've had it since I was 17. It's just always been there. Now to replace it…"

He rubbed small circles on the back of her hand with his thumb. If anyone knew what it was like to give up something, a home, a way of life, it was him. He had done so with the Jolly Roger, but he was not about to bring that up to her. "We don't have to do this today," he said, his hand grazing over her stomach. "We still have a while."

She looked at him, sadness evident in her eyes. "I still think this makes sense. I get a new car and Henry gets the Bug for when he's old enough to drive." It made logical sense, but she was still having an awful time picturing herself driving anything else but her car. It had served her well for so long and here she was abandoning it for something roomier and more ready for a family. Maybe it was the fact that it made it more real. Her forehead came to rest on his shoulder as she tried to imagine herself with this SUV, two car seats in the back and groceries in the cargo hold.

"Let's wait," he said to her. "It can wait."

She shook her head against his shoulder. "No," she said. "We won't find a better deal. Let's just do this."

Tons of paperwork, one threatened set of tears and a few phone calls to confirm funding and insurance and Emma drove Killian to the school to pick up Henry in the new SUV. She could see the surprise in her son's eyes as she waved to him from the driver's seat.

"A new car?" he asked, a bit redundantly since he was sitting in it. "Really?"

"One of the changes we're making for…"

"The baby," he said gesturing his understanding. "I get it."

Emma sucked in her breath as she drove them toward the apartment. "Henry, I want to talk to you about something," she said. "But I'd prefer not doing it while I'm driving." Her son nodded his head and like a typical boy of his age began opening everything he could from the back seat, including finding the screen from the DVD player.

"Why do we need that?" he asked. "Nobody can leave town so what we're going to keep driving around the block for two hours to watch a movie?"

At the apartment, Killian hung back for a moment, watching Emma grab herself something to drink and pour it slowly as she watched Henry collapse of the couch. "Love, do you want…"

She smiled to him, understanding this was still one of those awkward lines that nobody knew how to cross. He was the father of the twins, but he was not Henry's father. Did she or Henry want him there for such conversations? What was his place? "You can stay," she said. "I'd like you to, but I understand if you'd rather not. Now when we tell my parents tomorrow, you're there. I am not facing the hug patrol alone."

She and Henry spoke for a few minutes about the Volkswagen, with her explaining that it would become his shortly and that he could learn to drive on it. His face brightened slightly and then he frowned again. "I'm not five or something," he said to her. "I know this is going to sound like I am. It's just that it feels like you are replacing all the things in your life that were a part of my dad too."

"Henry," she said, holding her hand on his arm as he turned from her a little. "I'm not replacing anything because it was associated with your father. I promise you."

"I just worry that I'm next," he said with a little shrug. "I love both of my moms. I want…I don't want to get cut out of your life just because you guys are having a baby. You won't say that is what's happening. I know it is going to be gradual. You'll send me to Regina's more because it's easier that way. I won't be able to do things here because the baby's asleep. I won't…"

"Henry," Emma said, tugging on his arm so that he looked at her. "That's not how this is going down. Not at all. I didn't plan on getting a new car. I have been researching car seats that fit in that model of Volkswagen. Look on the computer. But we got some news that changed my thinking."

Henry looked at her curiously, finally making eye contact. "What?"

"Well," Emma said, hoping she was right that he would not see this as another slight to him. "I'm carrying twins. So there will be two babies."

"Twins?" Henry's eyes grew wide. "Really?"

"Yes," Killian piped up from across the way. "Your mother and I learned of the news the other day after the accident she and your grandmother were in that sent them to the hospital. Everyone is healthy and well. There just appears to be a stowaway this time."

Emma laughed, shooting her husband a look of disbelief. "A stowaway?" she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't know the proper nomenclature," he said. "I was doing my best." He leaned back with a look of surrender and ran his hand across his face. "Bloody hell, this isn't a conversation I'm used to having."

Rolling her eyes, she turned to Henry. "Yes, we're having twins. That means two car seats, two cribs, two high chairs, etc., etc., etc." She waved her arm toward the front door. "The Bug is too small to fit you, me, Killian, and two infants in car seats. We'd never be able to drive anywhere as a family. I want do that. I want to drive over to your grandparents new house, head over for your eighth grade graduation,…"

"I get it," Henry said. "I'm sorry for jumping to conclusions. Twins will be cool. Two boys? Two girls? A boy and a girl?"

"We don't know that yet," Emma said, grinning at him. "But I want you to know that you're the first one we're telling that we're having twins because this is your news too. You're as much a part of this family as any of us. Whether that is good or bad. And from now on any news we get on the babies, how about you get to know it before anyone else in town?"

"I'm happy for you," he said, nodding. "It'll be great to have two new brothers or sisters at once."

David whipped open the door and gave a quick kiss on the cheek to Emma and shoulder pat for Killian before turning to chase down Neal who had his mother's shoe in one hand and a can of creamed corn in the other. The scene would have been unusual to anyone else, but Emma had to give her parents credit that they did not seem too out of sorts by this pack rat behavior of their son.

Only Killian truly raised an eye brow as the boy's sturdy run was not deterred a moment by the arrival of anyone in his unknown and determined mission to hold these two items away from the adults of the room. Emma was not sure of the purpose either, but simply gave her husband a look to tell him to go with it.

Her mother came out of the bedroom area a few minutes later, fully dressed and groomed with the exception of shoes. Despite the fact that her daughter came by the loft once or twice week at least, their nearly daily walks at the park, and once a week breakfasts, there was always something about Mary Margaret's expression when Emma arrived that was a cross between pleasantly surprised and giddy for a little time. "How's the baby?" she asked, excitedly pulling her daughter into a hug.

"Fine," Emma said, her voice muffled by the hug. "Killian and I are fine too."

"Well I can see the two of you are fine," she always huffed. "Are you wearing that?"

Emma shared an I told you so glance with her husband as she pulled back, indicating that she had predicted this conversation just this morning as they were dressing. "Since I'm standing here in front of you with these clothes on my body," Emma said, "I'm going with yes."

Mary Margaret appeared almost ready to join her son in one of his pouts. "But you can barely see that you're pregnant in that outfit."

Emma shook her head and looked down at the simple green sweater and black pants she wore. They were not form fitting as she typically wore, but they did not scream out maternity. She was about to tell her mother that the fact that they would be announcing their conditions to all their friends at the diner should be clue enough without wearing a shirt with a giant arrow pointing toward her stomach or something else blatantly obvious. However, her brother had other ideas as he swooped out of David's reach and threw the shoe that his mother needed right between the two women.

"Neal Nolan," Mary Margaret scolded as she picked up the yellow and black shoe. "We do not throw things in this house."

Emma was used to the interruptions that her brother and life in general provided. Turning back to face Killian she gave him an amused grin. "I should have known this wouldn't go smoothly," she said, laughing at the situation. "So much for having a conversation before the party."

"We should try again," Killian told her, watching the whirl wind around them. "Perhaps when the lad goes down for a nap."

Emma watched them like a ping pong match. Her parents each attempting to corral the boy who had yet to drop the corn and now had one of the television remote controls. His little legs were carrying him to the bathroom for another round of see if it floats.

"Mom," Emma called as he mother rushed past. "Mom, can we talk to you?"

When David finally caught Neal, pried both items from his hand and looped his free arm around the boy's waist to pull him against his chest, Mary Margaret sighed and looked back to her daughter. "I'm sorry," she said. "You wanted to talk to us and we're running a circus around here. Is something wrong? Are you and the baby okay?"

They had managed to keep the news that they were expecting twins a secret for the few weeks from the ultrasound revelation to the party. It was not that it was a bad thing, Emma had told Killian. It was just that she wanted to process the information herself before sending her mother into even more of a planning mode. She also was worried about Killian's reaction to the news. He had said little about it, still offering her encouraging words and agreeing to go to parenting classes with her. However, she had noticed that he was more and more pensive about the subject whenever it was brought up. He denied it and they moved on, but she knew in the back of her head that he was clearly struggling to find the confidence that even she was lacking.

They needed to tell her parents, let them know the news before everything went public. She shot Killian a look, but she knew it would fall to her to tell them. Even though it wasn't bad news, she was unsure what to say or how they would react.

"Well, there's something I need to share with you both," she began, hoping her brother could maintain a certain level of calm for a moment. "Killian and I learned something while we were at the hospital the other week. When they did the ultrasound, there were twins." Her parents were silent, their eyes glazed and confused. "As in two babies," Emma further explained.

"Twins?" Her mother asked as she rushed her, placing both hands on Emma's stomach and leaning forward as if she could get a better view from that angle. "Twins!" She straightened up, hugging Emma to her and then pulling Killian into the hug as well. "Thank you!"

Emma laughed as she pulled back from her mother, studying the excited woman's face. "Who exactly are you thanking?" she asked.

"The two of you," she said. "You're giving us two new grandchildren. That's just amazing."

Emma glanced at Killian who looked a bit dumbstruck. "Mom," she said. "You do realize we didn't exactly do anything extra to have twins. It's just one of those things."

David chuckled at that and edged his wife aside as he hugged Emma. "Everything is alright though? Everyone's healthy?"

"We're all good, Dad," Emma said. "Now we've wasted enough time. Let's go get this party thing done."

Mary Margaret threw one arm around Ruby and hugged her from the side. "I'm truly happy," she said. "For once we aren't facing some horrible…"

"Don't jinx us," David said with a laugh as he grabbed another of the baby themed appetizers. "Every time someone makes a comment about the quiet state of this town, things go nuts. I don't want to risk it."

"Well the good news is that having the baby here instead of the Enchanted Forest has to be so much easier," Aurora said, fondly looking at her friend. "Besides the drugs, there are hospitals and clean sheets. There are so many conveniences."

"And how amazing is it to go through this with your daughter," Belle said. "That has to be an incredible thing. Your children will grow up together."

"I couldn't be happier," Mary Margaret said, smiling at her husband. "Just think about it. Three babies. Two for Emma and one for me."

"I think Hook and I have some dealings in this," David called out as Ashley and Ariel both came over to offer congratulations. "Without us…" Nobody was listening to him.

Ariel and Belle started a side conversation about possible baby shower themes and wondering aloud if they should be joint ventures. Ruby wanted to know the details of the wedding ceremony/vow renewal. Suddenly it was planning central with no real commanders or organizers.

Killian rested his hand on the small of her back as Granny commented that she was glad it was the babies and not her cooking that had added to the blonde sheriff's waistline. "It's not good for business when people start getting too round," the older woman said knowingly. "Glad to know it's for a good reason."

Ruby's reaction, once she detangled herself from Mary Margaret, was much more excited. Wrapping her arms around them both, she squealed and called them both, "Mommy and Daddy." She winked at Emma and told her that she'd known for weeks.

"And what tipped you off?" Emma asked, exasperated at the number of people who had supposedly guessed about her condition.

"Your eating," Ruby answered, wagging a finger accusingly. "That morning that you and I had breakfast together with your mother. You ate tomato paste on toast, followed by peanut butter and cream cheese on sour dough. That's not normal, even for you."

"You didn't say anything," Emma said, unbelieving that her friend had been that observant yet able to keep the secret. It didn't seem possible.

"I figured there must be a reason for you to want to keep it quiet," Ruby said, holding both of Emma's hands by the wrists and swinging them back and forth between them. "The baby is Hook's right? There's nothing else you're hiding."

Emma's mouth dropped at the brazenness of the joking question. "I can assure you that Killian is certainly the father," she said, nudging him with her shoulder since the brunette waitress had her hands. "But I thank you for keeping my secret for so long."

Ruby's face dropped into a mock pout. "Darn it," she said. "I was hoping for a nice juicy bit of gossip. A scandal."

She might have continued to complain, but Belle pushed her to the side to embrace Emma and offer her own congratulations. "Talk about timing," she said, pointing toward Emma's parents. "I think it is wonderful."

Emma managed to make it through six more congratulatory hugs and conversations before pulling Killian with her for a breath of air. "That's more than 10 people," Emma said, pouting toward the windows of the diner. "I should have known. And before you say it, I know…she's my mother, she's excited, we should be happy that she's happy." She plastered on a fake smile.

"We could escape," he said, mischief apparent in his eyes. "Leave all these people behind."

"And go where?" She wasn't saying no, but instead intrigued by the idea. Gripping her hand, he pulled her closer to their new car and darted his eyes to door of Granny's to make sure they had not been caught. When he saw David's rueful expression gazing back at him, he dropped Emma's hand like a school boy caught. She followed his gaze and laughed. "Busted!"


	13. Chapter 13

Killian sat across the table from Neal and stared hopelessly at the boy's inquisitive eyes as the boy drove the miniature truck through the piles of cereal. He could hear his wife's voice in the other room, a worried tone as she talked with her father. She'd roped them into babysitting again, as her mother and father were attending a doctor's appointment. Though he had firmly stated that he would no longer voluntarily watch after the boy alone, Emma had chosen to either ignore or blatantly disregard that statement.

"Lad, you're supposed to eat that," he said as he watched the boy throw a handful of the cereal on the floor. Neal laughed with delight, repeating the action again to Killian's frustration.

Running his hand across his face, Killian sat up and attempted to rake the remaining bits of cereal toward him and out of reach of the toddler. The boy slammed the plastic truck down on Killian's hand, gleefully trying to do it again as Killian muttered a few of his darkest sailor terms.

"He's like a parrot," Emma said as she emerged from the bedroom to hear her brother try to imitate the pirate's language. "He's going to repeat everything, especially the things you don't want him to say."

Shaking his injured appendage, he eyed his wife carefully. "The lad is dangerous," he said grimly. "This is not a one person job."

"Just wait," she teased. "You and I are about to do this times two. There won't be any giving them back to my parents either. We're going to have to remember to band together or they'll overtake us."

Killian was about to protest that no children of his would ever be as mutinous as to try such a thing, but Neal's loud clatter as he threw the truck down to the floor was enough to interrupt the moment. "I'm sure our downstairs neighbors are appreciative of that," he said, picking it up and holding it away from the boy who was back to throwing the cereal.

Emma looked over at her smiling brother and bent to kiss his tousled head. Removing one of the cereal bits from his hair, she looked concerned. "Did he eat?" she asked. "Or did he just play with it?"

"I can't make the lad mind me or halt him from doing bodily harm to me," Killian said. "I surely can't make the boy eat or perform on demand. He must not be hungry."

With concern, Emma looked at her brother. "Don't you want to eat?" she asked him to a resounding chorus of no's.

"What was your father's news?" Killian asked, grateful for the reprieve as Emma attempted to clean up the mess quicker than Neal made it. "They will retrieve the lad soon?"

Guiltily, Emma lifted her brother into her arms and returned him to the living room. "Actually they are testing my mom again because her blood sugar level was a bit too high. It could be another few hours before they can get him."

Killian nodded cautiously. "So you…"

"And there is a report that a tree is down over on Ellenwood Drive that has knocked out power," she interrupted. "I need to go check it out since my dad's with my mom."

He closed his eyes, bracing for the request.

"Is there anyway," she said, her own face contorting as if she felt a physical pain for asking, "that you could watch him just for a few minutes? I'm just going to run over there to check it out and I'll be right back. You won't even miss me." She shot him a pleading and hopeful smile. "Please."

"I'd rather see to this tree," he said, watching her struggle against her squirming brother.

"I know," she said sadly. "I wouldn't…"

He shook his head. "Aye, leave him here with me," Killian said reluctantly. "You are in a tough spot."

A sigh of relief escaped her lips as she handed him the toddler. "You're really a lifesaver," she gushed, cradling her brother to her before setting him down. "I take back all those horrible things I've said about you lately."

He chuckled. "Somehow I know you'll forget about my magnanimous deed the next time you find out I've eaten your favorite food and not replaced it."

"Some things are unforgiveable," she said. "You can stay here or even take him down to the playground for a few minutes. He loves the swings and the little slide. I think it is warm enough if you don't stay out too long and keep him bundled up."

She was part way to the door before she turned around and pressed a quick and chaste kiss to his mouth. "I love you," she said, trying to coax a smile from him. "You know that, right?"

"Aye," he said. "And you also owe me for this."

***KECS***

David read the text from Emma to himself and frowned, unsure if he should tell his wife that their toddler was now in the sole care of a one handed pirate. "Damn," he said under his breath. He knew that Emma had to run out to the scene of the downed tree, as it had damaged public property and there was some concern that someone might have done something to make it fall.

"Honey?" Mary Margaret said, holding a glass of some weird looking mixture that the medical staff was forcing her to drink for the test. "Is everything okay?"

"Fine," he said, waving off her concern and stuffing the phone back in his pocket. "Just some work stuff."

Mary Margaret looked worriedly at him. "Something that I, the mayor, should know about?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"Downed tree and some power outage stuff," David said, smoothing her hair with the palm of his hand. "Nothing to worry about." He wrinkled his nose and looked at the concoction in her hand that she was preparing to sip. "Is that as disgusting tasting as it looks?"

"That's not helping," she said. "I have to finish this all in 19 minutes."

He threw his hands up in mock surrender and backed his way into one of the empty seats in the waiting room. "By all means," he said. "Drink away."

She took a big gulp and swallowed hard, her face pinching in distaste. "I hate this stuff," she moaned. "Emma didn't have to do this."

"Emma's results weren't borderline," he reminded her. "It's just a precaution for the baby."

Mary Margaret repeated that it was for the baby and took another drink from the glass. "I'm trying to pretend this is a milkshake. A really strange milkshake." She gulped down another bit. "Am I making any progress here?" She held up the glass and looked at the lines on the side.

"Don't think about it," he suggested. "Just drink it." His tone was sympathetic as he watched her struggle through about half the glass before she looked at him again.

"If there is an emergency with that tree, that means that Emma's dealing with it," she said suddenly. "What about Neal? Who's watching Neal?"

David felt a twinge as he looked toward his worried wife. "I'm sure she found someone responsible," he said, hoping that his wife would not question it further. He should have known better.

"Granny? Belle?" his wife questioned, listing the most frequent sitters on their list. "Henry's at school…" She took another gulp and then choked. "Killian?"

David sucked his breath and prepared himself for the onslaught. The man was their son-in-law and the father of their unborn grandchildren. So he was a pirate with one hand and tendencies toward things they did not necessarily approve of wholly. He needed to learn, David rationalized, but still the pit in his stomach grew.

"David?" she questioned, holding the glass out from her. "Who is watching our child?"

"Hook," he said quietly. "Just for a few minutes until Emma can get the tree situation under…"

"A pirate is watching our child?" she practically yelled at him. "Are you serious?"

"To be fair, he's also the pirate who is married to our daughter."

This did not pacify Mary Margaret who downed the rest of the thick liquid as though she was chugging a beer. "Let's get this test over with and get me back to my baby boy."

***KECS***

The boy had enough padding on him to float in the ocean, Killian decided after a 20 minute expedition of trying to place the coat on the boy and zip it. He was already mentally making a list of the ways that Emma could make this up to him, as he'd gone way out of his comfort zone. It had taken another 10 minutes to figure out that he did not know how to unfold the stroller and five more minutes to figure out where Neal had run off to while Killian was discovering his inadequate knowledge. The boy had managed in those minutes to pull every pan out from the lower cabinet and line them up to start his own drum line.

While Neal had cried over being carried and not allowed to walk to the park – a decision that Killian came to after having to search for him in the apartment – the boy's tears dried and cries became cheers when the swings were in sight.

"Down, down, down," the boy chanted as Killian passed through the gate. "Swing!"

A mother gently suggested that Killian try one of the more secure toddler swings to which he thanked her and headed off for the yellow and red swing seat. The forward and back motion seemed to entertain the little boy who instructed Killian to push him higher and let him touch the branch of a nearby tree. The pirate actually relaxed for a moment, pride swelling that the boy was having fun under his care.

Soon the swing became too boring for the boy and other children began to arrive and want their turns. Killian lifted Neal from the seat and set him down on the soft surface of the playground that was some substance that he knew did not exist back in the Enchanted Forest. Neal stumbled a bit as he pumped his legs as hard as he could to run toward the smaller slide.

Killian knew how to do this, as he had seen both Emma and Mary Margaret with the boy on the slide a dozen times. One usually stood near the top of the slide and the other at the bottom to catch him as he whizzed down the plastic surface. The smile on Neal's face as he flung himself down the slide was always one of freedom and joy, propelling himself down toward the safety of someone's waiting arms.

Killian lifted the 2 year old up in the air, placing him at the top of slide and instructed him to sit and wait for Killian to cross the few steps to be able to catch him. "Wait right there, lad," he said, turning to walk to the end of the yellow plastic. "I will tell you…"

He wasn't sure which he heard first, the gasp of a nearby parent or the shrieks of Neal. He turned so quickly that he almost lost his balance, seeing no sign of the boy at the top of the slide where he had left him. Instead he was next to it, crumpled on the ground and attracting the attention of nearly every parent and child in the vicinity.

_**Note: Sorry for the cliffhanger. I'll update soon.**_


	14. Chapter 14

Emma's phone chirped incessantly as she questioned the man who saw the tree fall. His speech was slow and methodical as he detailed everything from the tree's circumference to the tune the birds were singing before the fateful event. There were four more people lined up to speak with her, but she doubted they had much to add except to tell her how the power outage was affecting their lives at that moment.

"Give me a minute," she told the man who was trying to remember if the tree that used to be next to this one was an elm or an oak.

She pulled the phone out of her pocket and saw that there were five missed calls from Killian, two from her mother, and one from her father. She called Killian back first.

"I didn't realize," he said, his voice tight and almost unrecognizable. "He fell before I could…"

"Killian," she said calmly. "I haven't listened to my messages so you need to tell me what is going on there. Who fell?" She knew the answer, but she needed to hear it.

"Your brother," Killian said. "He's scratched up a bit, but he's…"

"Killian," Emma interrupted. "What do you mean he fell?"

"From the play equipment. He…he took a hard fall and scratched a portion of his face." She did not comment on it, but there was robotic nature to his voice, much like when he was under the control of Rumpelstiltskin. "I…"

"Where are you now?" she asked, trying to get the facts before she panicked. He explained that the injuries were not bad enough for a hospital visit, having had a once over by several other parents. He was simply calling her because he had feared talking to her parents. "I'll be right there."

She looked back at the gathered crowd and a few of the dwarfs who were working as a crew to remove the tree and begin the process of restoring the power to the street. Emma approached Leroy and explained that she could not stick around, rushing toward her new vehicle and hurrying toward the direction of the loft where Killian had said he was meeting her parents.

***KESC***

"He's bleeding," Mary Margaret said, pulling her screeching son from Killian's arms. "What happened?"

Killian had faced many foes in his life on the seas. From Blackbeard and the Dark One to storms that threatened destruction and sea creatures of all kinds, he had never backed down from a fight. However, Mary Margaret's anger was evident and he felt his legs shaking as she asked the question. His voice shook even more than his body as he told her of the incident.

"How could you let this happen?" she demanded. "How could you…"

"I apologize," Killian said meekly. "I'm…"

"He's just a little boy. You can't leave him alone for even a second. He could have been seriously injured."

Killian did not disagree with the woman, letting her words sink over the situation and draw out his own insecurity. He'd known he was not feeling up to the challenge of watching the boy, but he had done it anyway. And with each moment his confidence had grown until that moment when the world had stopped spinning and he'd seen the crumpled form on the ground.

"Hook," David said, using the moniker that they had tried to avoid in his presence, "I'm not sure what the hell you were thinking, but you can't endanger my child like this. What if…"

"I'm sorry," he repeated. "I…"

"It doesn't matter if you're sorry," David responded harshly. "What matters is that you let my son get injured."

David pushed past him, inspecting the scratch along the boy's cheek and confirming that it was neither deep nor serious. His mouth let out soothing words to the little boy as Mary Margaret cleaned Neal up and covered the wound with a cartoon themed bandage.

Killian felt the bile rising in his throat as the scene played out before him, the scenarios of worse outcomes teetering in his mind. They were so wrapped up in their son that nobody noticed his slow walk to the door or his escape from their not angry but disappointed eyes.

"My poor little boy," Mary Margaret said, holding the pacified boy in her arms. "Such a brave boy…"

David sighed and turned to see the empty spot where Killian had been standing.

***KESC***

Emma whipped her hat off of her head and dropped it and her gloves in a pile at the door as she stalked into the living room of her parents' loft. They were already there, faces pale as hers and concern flashing in their eyes even though Neal was currently showing no signs of distress. In one chubby hand he held a fat chocolate chip cookie and in the other a building block.

David was on the floor with the boy talking about the blocks, their color, shape, and even comparing them to other blocks. He cheered each time he got the answer correct, calling him a smart boy and a handsome prince.

"He's okay," Emma breathed with relief as he mother looked at her with a tight smile.

"It's just a scratch," her mother answered. "Nothing that a band-aid and a cookie couldn't fix."

Emma weakly stepped forward for a better view of her little brother. "I'm so sorry, Mom. I was trying to handle that call about the tree and the power. I thought that I'd only be gone a minute."

Her mother looked downward. "Emma," she said, holding her hands on the back of the chair for support. "It turned out okay."

Emma nodded her head, but said nothing as her mother turned back to the kitchen and began to clean up some of the first aid supplies. The brunette woman cleared the table and moved the items back to the bathroom. Lowering herself to her father's side, she smiled as her brother handed her block too. Offering her brother a watery smile, she accepted his peace offering and added it to the tower that the two guys were building.

"Stop it," David told her as Neal chased a block that he had just thrown. "Neal's fine and you were just trying to do your job and help us. Nobody…"

Emma looked toward her father and sighed. "I knew better," she said. "I knew that Killian wasn't…"

"It was a mistake," David interrupted.

"I'm sorry," she told him, adding another block to the tower. "Killian didn't even want to…"

David's intake of breath was harsh and his eyes were a bit darker. "I know that he was just helping you. It's just…This is my little boy. I don't like to see him hurt."

Emma nodded. "He sounded so panicked on the phone." The tower was growing and she knew that her brother would be kicking and knocking it down soon – his favorite part of any experience. "I was helpless."

"Your mother and I were the same way when he called us," David explained. "It is hard when you hear that your child is in pain and you're not there to make it better."

Neal rushed over to Emma, the crown of his head hitting her chest as he giggled. "Sister," he said in that way that only toddlers can draw out the word into multiple syllables with strange accents. She loved it when he did that, recognizing the family connection that she had sorely missed as a child. As he toddled off after something else, she closed her eyes.

"Are you okay?" David asked her.

"I don't want to have this conversation, but…" She finally opened her eyes. "He's been scared of this. Scared that he's going to mess up somehow. He tells me that we'll learn together. He tells me that we'll figure it out, but if this…"

David cleared his throat. "Emma, I'm going to be honest that I was angry that my son was hurt under his watch. I was angry at him. I was angry at myself for saddling you with both work and your brother. I was angry that you left your brother with him and didn't think anything of it. But it could have happened with any of us. We can't wrap a kid in bubble wrap and put padding on everything. They fall. They get hurt."

"So it's just lucky that Neal's fine," Emma said, uncomfortable with the idea of relying on such a fleeting concept when it came to the safety of her brother or any child. "How do you build anything secure on just luck?"

"Luck isn't the only thing we have to rely on here," he said.

She could recognize and even appreciate that what her father was saying was true, but the feeling inside nagged at her. "I get that," she said. "I really do, but what if Killian never gets to the point where he's ready to be more than just helping me raise a child or in our case children. He's…"

Emma knew that maybe she was expecting too much too soon. She was expecting him to go from zero to sixty in a matter of seconds rather than accepting that he might not be comfortable or even ready for any of this. "I can't do this totally on my own," she said, a tinge of panic in her voice. "I can't raise two children on my own with a husband who watches from the sidelines and shouts out encouragement rather than actually jumping in and doing something."

"Emma," her father said, his voice warm but a little unsure. "You have to give your husband a little credit here. He's not running away from the responsibility. I don't know how you convinced him to take care of your brother today, but he did try. No, he wasn't perfect. I could be angry about that and threaten him, but he tried. That's worth something."

"I'm overanalyzing?" she asked, similar to the way she asked the same question the morning of her wedding.

"You do it well," he joked. "Now, go find him."

***KECS***

One would think that in a town the size of Storybrooke that there would not be many places to hide, but tell that to someone who is searching. Emma made her way through most of the town before needing to rest for a moment when she began to feel lightheaded. Drinking a glass of water, she mentally listed all the places that he might be located. She'd even called a few people who Killian was known to see or drink with on occasion, but nobody had even seen him.

"Mom?" Henry asked, as she stared at her phone. "Is Killian okay?"

She gave a curt nod of her head to her son and smiled warily. "Today was rough on him," she explained. "I think he just needed a little time."

Henry looked as if he might say more, but he did not utter a word as he sat down next to her on the couch and looked at the screen of her phone too.

Later that evening she'd put her son to bed, managed to avoid her mother's probing questions, and called everyone on the short list again. Her stomach was rumbling with hunger and she was scratching off places on her list of locations that had already been searched. He had not even carried his cell phone with him, as Mary Margaret had found it at the loft after Emma left.

She was pacing the short distance between the sofa and the kitchen when her phone chirped to life again, her father's familiar number on the screen. "Dad?" she answered the phone. "What's going on?"

"Emma," her father stated, his voice strained. "Better come down to the station. I'll explain when you get here."

Emma hated to do it, but she did not want to leave Henry at night. Waking him up, she threw some blankets and pillows in the car for him and drove them both to the station. She could see the lights blazing from inside and Emma's father standing in the window watching for them. She gave him a quick wave and walked with Henry inside where she situated him on a long bench in the lobby. "I won't be long," she promised him. He was burying himself under the blankets and was fishing his Gameboy out of his pocket.

She entered the main office and saw her father tapping his fingers on his desk, clearly waiting. "What's going on?" she asked again, her eyes noticing the wrinkled shirt he wore. "Why all the drama to get me down here?"

He said nothing but his eyes drifted to the two jail cells. She followed and saw Will Scarlet in one and Killian in the other. "What the hell?" she muttered, stalking over to her father for further information. He simply passed the rough draft of intake report to her, rubbing the bridge of his nose with a thumb and forefinger. His inelegant handwriting detailed a brawl in the hallway at Granny's, the older woman reluctantly calling the sheriff when one of the dwarfs hid her crossbow and another refused to answer when she demanded its whereabouts.

"Where's Granny? The dwarfs?" Emma asked, avoiding the obvious issue with her husband.

"Hospital," David explained. "Granny got quite a blow in at one of them and there was…anyway, none of them are pressing charges."

Emma nodded and let the papers float down to the table. "And these two?" She finally studied both men. Will was against the bars, his arms hooked around them and his forehead resting on the cold metal with his eyes shut. Killian was reclined on the thin mattress of the cot with hand over his face and his other arm dangling without its hook.

"Granny pressed charges on them. That one broke her favorite casserole dish," he pointed toward Will, "and that one managed to send a chair through a window. In the process they both bruised each other up in a few places and threatened anyone who tried to stop them."

Emma copied her father's motion of rubbing the bridge of her nose. "And are they drunk or just giving us the silent treatment?"

"Both," David said, leaning back in the chair so far that it squeaked in protest. "Will was getting on my nerves so I told him that one more word meant an extra hour in here. Killian's sulking."

Emma pulled back the side drawer and pulled out the key ring. "Do I need to post bail?" she asked. "Or…"

"I would let him sleep it off," David called out as she fumbled with the keys and opened Killian's cell door.

Emma stepped carefully toward him, towering over him with her blonde hair creating a curtain as she stared down at him. There was already a bruise forming on his jaw. She leaned closer and lifted his hand up to see the rest of his face. "Hey there," she said as his eyes reluctantly opened.

"Swan," he said, his voice gravely. "You came for me."

"Used to be," she said, laughing lightly that he was calling her by her maiden name. "Can you walk? Or do I need to get Dad to carry you out of here?"

Killian groaned loudly as he sat up, his eyes blinking rapidly against the harsh light. "What the bloody hell am I doing here?"

"We can talk about that later," she told him, swinging his arm over her more for support than comfort. "We can also talk about the price of repairs at Granny's and the tab you probably left there."

She managed to get Killian and Henry both in the car, glaring at Killian when he began to tell Henry that drinking alcohol was not good form. He was hardly in a condition to argue the merits of sobriety. One home she sent Henry to bed first and managed to convince Killian to go to their bedroom where she pulled off his boots, jacket and shirt before giving up and putting him to bed in his pants.

"You're pretty when you're mad," Killian told her when she came out of the bathroom in her robe. "Beautiful."

"Killian," she said, annoyance evident in her tone. "Go to sleep."


	15. Chapter 15

**_Note: Here is a little of the aftermath. I will say that I had something similar happen to me while babysitting my niece. She fell off the slide and screamed for two hours while my other niece told me how horrible I was as an aunt for breaking her sister. LOL So I decided to give Killian that experience and allow both Emma and David to talk to him about how he shuts down. _**

**_That said, I'm going to lay off Killian for a little while after this chapter since I've been a little hard on him._**

"And he lives," Emma said, standing in the doorway to the bedroom, her head cocked to the side to view her husband's waking. "How are you feeling?"

"You underestimate my ability to hold my rum, love," he said, rubbing his hand over his face. "Though the taste in my mouth is not exactly reminiscent of the rum I have partook of in the past."

She chuckled. "You look like hell," she said. "Want to tell me what happened that isn't in the sheriff's report. I'd love to know what my father missed in his investigation."

Killian's blue eyes were startled as he remembered the events of the night before, the dark red coming back to his face as he groaned. "Your father arrested me," he said with guilty realization. "He…"

"Threw you in jail for a bit," Emma said. "By the way, you're out on a signature bond. I'm responsible for you until the judge decides what to do with you."

"Emma, I…"

She pursed her lips together and drank the steeped tea that she had been trying to make replace her daily coffee. "So you remember your adventure in the back hallway at Granny's," she said, quirking her own eyebrow to verify. "I guess I should be grateful that you didn't drink so much that you blacked out. However, I must ask if this is going to be a thing. Are you going to run off and get drunk every time something goes wrong? Because I don't know if I can keep looking for you and worrying, especially after the twins are born. We're going to have to be the adults, not children running away to hide from things."

She came into the room and pushed down some of the covers to sit on the bed, her hip touching his. "I'm sorry, Emma," he said, looking at her with bleary eyes. "Truly sorry."

"So what was it?" she asked. "The incident with Neal? Because I think you should know that he's fine. He's a little scratched up, but no permanent damage." She took another sip and watched Killian's face fall again. "My parents are more concerned than mad, by the way."

"They have every reason to despise me for not properly caring for their son," Killian muttered, turning onto his side and propping himself up on an elbow. "I failed them."

Emma sighed. "I'm not saying it was the finest moment of childcare, but you didn't do anything that horrible, Killian," she said. "Yes, he got hurt, but that happens with kids. And you took care of him afterward. He was hurting and you tried to make him calmer so that my parents could see to him. That's not the action of someone who was doing the wrong thing. It's a sign of a man who wants to be a good caregiver and father. That's what counts."

"How do you even know what occurred?" he asked.

"My parents talked to me after I arrived at the loft," she said. "My father wasn't happy that he had been harsh with you. I guess seeing your child in pain, even a little, can make a parent a bit short with people. Anyway, they were worried that you had left thinking that you had done some horrible thing. You hadn't."

He said nothing, watching her to see where her words were going.

She reached a hand out to run along his bare arm. "I know we are talking about learning how to do this parent thing. We're going to study and practice. We're going to do everything we can to get ready, right? Well, the truth is that sometimes we're going to mess up. Sometimes things are going to happen that we didn't predict or didn't anticipate. Our kids are going to fall. They are going to skin knees, scrape things, cry, get sick, bite other kids, throw tantrums, and drive us insane. That's what kids do. It doesn't mean we are horrible people because we didn't predict it or because we let it happen."

"I felt quite helpless to see him lying there in pain," Killian admitted. "I couldn't get that sight out of my head and wondering what if it had been worse."

"That's a good sign," Emma told him, placing the now empty mug on the bedside table. "Killian, I can't predict the future. I don't know that I'd even want to do that. But I can tell you that I think that you're going to be a good dad. Even when you or I mess up, we're going to be the only parents that these kids have in their lives. So ready or not, we're going to do the best we can do."

She stood and looked down at him, searching for any sign of understanding. "Very well," she said. "I'm going to let you rest. I've got to get ready. My dad will be in here in a little bit and I'm going dress shopping with my mom."

***KECS***

David steered his truck into a parking spot at his daughter's apartment, two foam cups of coffee in the cup holder and a paper bag with her favorite pastry in the passenger seat. He bounded up the steps and banged loudly on the door as he shivered with the cold breeze that wrapped around him in his wait.

Emma's face was surprised but happy to see him as she opened the door wide to let him inside. "I figured with the pregnancy you probably didn't have any fresh coffee," he said, holding up the holder. "So I brought your husband a little hang over cure."

Emma laughed and pointed her father in her husband's direction. He had moved from the bed to the couch and was telling his wife that he was perfectly fine though was still sporting a headache. She had even prepared him an icepack for his injured jaw. "He's over there," she said. "I hope it is better than that awful concoction you made for my hangover that time."

"That's an old family recipe," David chided as he nudged the pirate's legs to let him sit down. "But I doubted that Killian had the same trouble with his liquor as you so I went with the standard black coffee instead." He passed a cup of it to his son-in-law and nodded at the muttered thanks.

"I brought you a doughnut," he said, passing the bag to Emma. "Your mother has been asking for one each morning so I thought you might enjoy."

"Best watch her, mate," Killian laughed, as she opened the bag to sniff and inspect the contents. "She'll put some odd concoction on it and claim the babies made her do it. I think she might be marking her territory so Henry and I don't eat it."

David smiled. "I heard about the tomato paste and cream cheese on toast," he said with a mock shudder. "That is a new one to me, but I'm not judging. Do whatever you want with that doughnut. Just don't show me."

Emma stuck her tongue out at the two of them. "What are you doing here, Dad?" she asked. "Shouldn't you be dealing with Will?"

"Released him this morning," David said with a shrug. "Seems that Granny had a bit of a change of heart and dropped the charges. So long as our two drunk vandals come over to help clean up, the whole incident is forgotten."

"Good deal," Emma said, smiling at her husband. "We wouldn't want you getting a reputation as a bad guy or anything."

David smirked as Killian dropped his head in a moment of shame over the drunken incident. "And I came over to see if I might convince the two of you to have dinner with us," he said. "Snow's been in a cooking mood and has been dying for people to come over and enjoy her efforts."

Killian lifted his head. "Your son is okay now?" he asked. "No lasting effects for the lad?"

"He's fine," David verified. "When I left this morning he was screaming about superheroes and refusing to wear shoes. So all is well in the Nolan household."

"Mate, I…" Killian shook his head, and groaned as the headache pounded worse.

"We'll have a chat later," he said to Killian. "Right now I'm going to wish your wife good luck." He stood and hugged his daughter tightly. "Your mother is going to make you try on a million dresses and ask for opinion about a million more. Are you ready for that?"

"I've met the woman," Emma said with a laugh, winking at Killian. "I'd love to stick around, but I should head over to meet her. I think Ruby is going to join us so maybe we can keep Mom under control."

Killian watched through his bleary eyes as Emma shut the door behind her, leaving him alone with David. Cradling the warm foam cup in his hand, he looked toward the floor and waited for the blast from his father-in-law who looked remarkably calm while Emma had been there.

"You can't keep doing this," David said, finally breaking the silence over the room. "It's not fair to Emma, Henry, or the rest of us."

He managed to raise his gaze toward the prince. "I…"

"No excuses," David interrupted. "Whatever happened at the park happened. We can't change that or even fix it at this point. Did you notice the bruise Neal had around his eye a few weeks ago? I did that. He was supposed to be napping and I was unpacking a box that my wife ordered. I didn't know he was behind me and accidentally smacked him with a board for a new bookshelf."

"You?" Killian asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"Yes," David answered glumly. "It's not something I am happy to admit or something I ever care to repeat. But you should know that kids get into messes. Neal seems very prone to it. So while we wished it hadn't happened, nobody blames you for what happened with my son. If I gave you the impression that I was somehow blaming you, then I do apologize for that."

Killian breathed a slight sigh of relief to actually hear those words coming from the prince's mouth. Emma had tried to assure him, but to hear the man actually say it meant something to him. "I am sorry for it happening."

"Yes, well," David cleared his throat and sat a bit straighter. "What you need to apologize for is your behavior after the fact. Your running off to sulk and pout like a child who has been caught misbehaving. It isn't the right way to respond to anything, most especially when you are leaving behind a pregnant wife and an impressionable step-son."

"I needed a bit of time to think," Killian replied. "I didn't intend…"

"Everyone needs time to think or decompress or whatever you want to call it. There are days when I could use a month long vacation on a deserted island with nobody else around for miles, but that's not reasonable or possible. The fact is that whatever your intentions, you ran and hid from your problems. I suspect it had something to do with facing Emma when you felt as if you had failed at caring for Neal."

David placed his now empty cup on the table and lifted one leg so that his ankle rested on the opposite knee. His arms splayed out on the back of the couch. "That is a cowardly way of dealing with the issue. More than that, you put my daughter at risk because you couldn't face up to her and admit where you were during that time. You left your phone behind so she had no way to reach you. She spent hours looking for you and only agreed to stop when I insisted that she come back here to rest and regroup so that I could take over searching."

"I didn't…"

"As I said, I don't care about your intentions or reasons," David said steadfastly. "My daughter should not have to search for you and worry about you for any reason. She is carrying your children and you had her wandering around in the cold because you were pouting. That's not right."

Killian nodded, feeling very much like the child that David described. His eyes drifted back down and watered slightly with the sting of the words and the image of his wife in search of him. He'd not thought of how is disappearance might have endangered her or their children.

"I'm not your father, Killian," David said with a laugh. "Hell, I'm not sure how to be that for Emma most of the time. I'm just saying to you that I don't want to see that again. I don't want to see my daughter hurting because of your fear or pride or whatever it is that encourages you to run away. I don't want Henry to see that you turn to that flask every time things go wrong. He's growing up and everything that you, Emma, Regina, Robin or any of us do is a lesson to him on how to be a good adult."

***AAA***

Mary Margret held the dress up to her daughter and tilted her head in concentrated appraisal. "I'm not sure I like the color."

"They are yellow," Emma said, waving an arm at the row of yellow dresses that her mother had been agonizing over for more than an hour. "They are all yellow."

Ruby snickered as she hung up the one she had just tried on for the bride to evaluate. "Your mother is nothing if not thorough," she said. "Just go with it, Emma."

Emma grimaced. "I'm not complaining about the color or the fact that my mother can't decide which shade of yellow she wants to use," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically. "I'm complaining about the fact that my mother wants me to have a fitting for a dress that I won't wear for several weeks when I'm pregnant with twins."

"I'm not making you have a fitting right now," Mary Margaret explained, going back to the rack and pulling out another one. "I'm trying to decide which shade looks best on you and which style might work with my grandchildren becoming more and more prominent."

Ruby took the rejected dress from her friend and hung it back up. "I think she just said you're getting fatter," she teased Emma. "I wouldn't take that."

"My mother wouldn't dare," Emma said, smiling at Mary Margaret. "But can we take a break for a minute."

Relenting, the former school teacher let her daughter sit down for a moment and the three discussed more of the plans for the ceremony. Having had enough with her own planning that did not seem that long ago, Emma let her mother have her spotlight and enjoyed watching Ruby blanch at some of the ideas.

"It's not your first wedding or even your second," Ruby pointed out. "I thought we were going with simple theme here." Ruby's dark hair was pulled back and held in place by the black fedora that she wore. Her long legs were covered in patterned tights and a red skirt and black sweater completed the look along with her red heels. "The way this sounds, you're expecting royal trumpeters and balcony presentations."

"I said simple but elegant," Mary Margaret confirmed. "I'm wanting more than barefoot on the beach." There was a pointed look at Emma who had advocated for such a ceremony for herself. "It might not be on par with a royal wedding in the Enchanted Forest, but it needs to still be classy and elegant." She pursed her lips as she looked at the two other women. "You guys think I'm going overboard with all the plans, but I'm not. I'm just trying to have a nice ceremony and celebrate with the man I love."

Emma pulled the dog-eared magazine from her mother and laughed. "Nobody is blaming you for wanting something nice," she assured her. "If anyone can put it together, you can. You came up with every good idea for my wedding."

Ruby nodded enthusiastically as she leaned closer to view an advertisement for a dress that Mary Margaret liked. "You have a talent for it. You're organized and methodical. You have great taste when it comes to decorations. I've never known you to stray from a budget. Maybe you could consider it a career move. Open your own even planning business?"

"Ohhhh," Emma enthused. "I like it. Maybe something like Snow's Soirees."

The women laughed and batted suggested names back and forth as they finished picking out their dresses. By the time Emma's was selected, they had already named the fictional business, figured out the perfect location and were considering stationary options.


	16. Chapter 16

_**Note: This is just a short fluffy chapter, but I felt like adding it just as it was. So here you go.**_

"You didn't kill him, did you?" Mary Margaret asked as they walked back down the stairs to the living room with David carrying two large cardboard boxes. "A jail sentence could end up postponing the plans for the ceremony."

"Just lectured," David said, dropping the boxes by the door where they were placing the full ones to move when time permitted. "No blood shed even."

"Be careful with those," she chastised, turning on the light to illuminate the room now that the sun had begun to go down.

"They aren't fragile. One has bedding for a crib and the other is baby clothes. We're not talking about things that will break." Leaning back on his heels he watched her pick up one of the six lists that she had made for all the things going on in their life. Sometimes it felt like she was the only one with the battle plans and he was merely awaiting orders.

"I was thinking," she said, tapping this list with her finger. "We could tackle the closet next. Maybe get all the summer stuff packed up and moved over to the house. That way…" Her words were lost as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close, his lips descending upon hers. "What was that for?" she asked when he pulled back.

"You looked like you could use it," he teased. "And if it distracts you from making me pack another box…"

"David," she laughed, swatting at his shoulder. "We're never going to get everything done if we don't hop to it." He kissed her again, lightly.

"Why don't we take a break for dinner? I'll even cook."

Agreeing that food was certainly a better option than packing another box, Mary Margaret sat and talked to her husband as she e-mailed the photos of the final dress selections to Emma and Ruby.

"Would you prefer tomato sauce or a white sauce?" David asked, his head buried in the refrigerator and his voice echoing. "Or I could see if we everything for a pesto?"

Mary Margaret didn't answer immediately, her thumbs tapping against her phone. "Hmmmm?"

David stood and looked toward her, his arm resting on the top of the refrigerator door. "Put down the phone," he instructed. "You spent five hours with them today. Put down the phone and pay attention to your husband."

She was about to tell him that she'd be right with him when he slipped it out of her hands and threw it in a nearby drawer. "Wait!" she yelped. "I have to…"

Keeping on hand on her shoulder, as if to hold her in place, he laughed. "You're on tomato duty," he instructed. "Dice them." Dropping a bag of tomatoes in front of her, he followed it by handing her a knife. "Hurry it up, I've got a great sauce in mind."

"Slave driver," she muttered, grinning as she lined the tomatoes on the cutting board. "You are going to pack six boxes tonight before we go to bed."

***KECS***

Emma heard Killian unlock the apartment door a little before six that evening, as well as his usual muttering about the lock that stuck and annoying keys that were not as sturdy as those he was used to using. She had finally appeased her mother, narrowing down her matron of honor dress choices from 40 to three, which had not been an easy feat.

"You survived my father?" she asked from the couch where she was reading her emails on her phone. Her feet rested in their socks on one arm of the furniture and her head on the other. "He said he wanted to have a chat with you."

Killian dipped down to kiss her upturned cheek and gestured for her to sit forward so he might slide in behind her. "Yes, he had his say and I did a bit of nodding and agreeing. Gratitude for warning me, love." He sighed as she leaned back to use his lap as her new pillow.

"Serves you right," she said, her eyes not leaving her phone. "Just be glad it wasn't my mother and my father. Though I haven't asked Henry if he'd like to lecture you as well."

He sighed dramatically as though this punishment was some horrible penalty. "I believe you spent the majority of the day with your mother," he said, his hand coming to rest upon her hair, fingers combing through the blonde tresses. "Are you claiming that you were somehow doing some sort of penance?"

"Ask me that after I have to do it again," she said, tilting the phone so that he could see the picture her mother had sent her. "I'm going to look like Big Bird."

He scrutinized the yellow dress, failing to understand her reference. "You'll look like the sun, love," he said. "Beautiful and radiant."

She looked up at him with disbelief. "I'm going to be a freaking cow in yellow," she said. "Nobody is going to think radiant or beautiful when they have to use all the yellow material in the state of Maine to cover me." She pulled the phone back and stared at it in disgust. "You know who's going to look good in this? Ruby. Ruby with long skinny legs and a flat stomach."

He chuckled as she tossed her phone at the chair closest to the fireplace. "This might not seem the appropriate time, but do you want something to eat? I'm a bit hungry myself."

She placed both hands on either side of her abdomen and craned her neck up to look at the still smallish round that was becoming more evident. "You two need to stop it with the rapid growth thing," she chastised. "I have to be able to fit down the aisle for your grandparents' ceremony."

Laying her head back on his legs, she saw the confusion in his eyes. "What are you doing, Emma?" he asked. "Were you just talking to yourself?"

A tiny smirk played at her lips as she realized that he had not heard her do that before. "I was talking to the babies," she said. "It's too early for them to actually hear, but it is something that I kind of like to do." She blushed a little. "I want them to get to know my voice and know me so that they love me when they are born." Her face scrunched up in a cute way as he smiled at her.

"And you're telling them what to do?"

"Silly, I know. It's just that when I was pregnant with Henry I didn't do these things. I was in a jail cell and surrounded by people who weren't really big on the whole prenatal thing. They were too busy shouting insults and asking me if I even knew the father. So this time I want to be more involved with the experience, which sounds stupid since I'm the one who is pregnant and I can't help but be involved."

To her surprise, he didn't tease her about it. "What do you talk to them about?"

"Just normal stuff," she said. "I tell them that I love them and about what's going on that day. I read things to them. I debate what I want for lunch." She laughed. "I even talk to them about what I'm going to wear and how they need to suck it in so I can wear something. Too weird?"

"Adorable," he corrected.


	17. Chapter 17

**_Notes: I have been so overwhelmed by people's responses whether they are a simple note saying they liked it or debating the marital status of Snowing. It's been fun reading them and trying to figure out a way to respond with this story._**

**_I'll be trying to come up with the names for the babies soon. Any suggestions will be welcome. _**

In his day classrooms consisted of benches lines up with children of varying stations in life crammed together as a humorless man or woman drilled them on language and arithmetic. So when Emma had suggested parenting classes, he'd imagined a similar scene only with pregnant women rather than children.

"You look surprised," she said as she flipped through the photocopied and spiral bound text that was required for the class. "Were you expecting something more like Little House on the Prairie with slates, class in a church, and lunch from a bucket?"

"Another reference from that bloody television box?" he asked, looking about the colorful room just downstairs from Archie Hopper's office. "I believe you might be watching too much of it, love. It can't be good for you."

She pursed her lips and ran a finger down a list of milestones that a baby should achieve before his or her first birthday. "You forget that I had 28 years to soak in all that pop culture before I even met you. You are catching up, though."

"Not a very lofty goal," he muttered.

She expected him to cross his arms over his chest and pout that he was there, but his studious expression as she passes the book over to him reminded her that there is something in him that would enjoy this. While he had been a pirate and villain in her life, he also studied hard to be a modern man who understood the world where she lived. She wondered for the infinite time whether she would have done the same if the situation was reversed.

As the class began with a lesson on holding a newborn and swaddling, she couldn't help but notice that Killian's concentration could probably be measured with the number of times his tongue wet his lips. He observed at first, not even making jokes that she was considering making. He practiced the skills that the instructor, a woman who Emma could not quite place as being from any fairy tale, even when there is an announced break.

"You don't have to learn everything tonight," she cautioned when he was a bit frustrated that he could not manage one of the tasks. His face scrunched in concentration on the task, but her fingers were attempting to smooth out the lines that formed.

"You're distracting me, love," he said when she tapped his nose with the tip of her finger.

"We're on a break," she said, pointing to the other couples in the room who were noshing on snacks. "You don't have to learn everything tonight. We can practice at home."

He placed the doll that they had been using on the table so gently that Emma wanted to tease him. However, she held back and pulled him by his bad arm to the table in the back for some of the snacks, careful to steer him away from the group of expectant parents who were discussing what to expect during labor and delivery. That could scar him, she thought. Having already been through that process with Henry, she knew she could probably scare the new mom's into panic attacks.

***AAA***

Henry eyed his grandmother carefully as he nibbled on one of the cookies that she had claimed she baked just for him. He was pretty sure that if he looked in the covered trash bin beside the counter that he'd find an empty container from the bakery or at least a bag from Granny's.

"Good, isn't it?" Mary Margaret asked, biting off some of hers and wiggling her eyebrows. "I'm glad you could come over tonight."

"Mom and Killian have that class," he said, sipping from the ice cold milk and wiping the excess off with his sleeve. Emma and Regina both lectured him about such things and good manners. His grandmother didn't put up a fight.

"Your mom seems to be settling into the news that she's having twins," Mary Margaret broached carefully, sipping on her own glass of milk. "Had to have been a shock for her."

Henry knew this was about to turn into an interview, questions about his mother. "She's okay," he affirmed. "You know her. She pretty much takes what life throws at her."

Mary Margaret nodded thoughtfully, her chin coming to rest in her hand. "So you must be excited," she said, sounding very much as though she was talking to a much younger child. "New brothers or sisters?" She lifted her shoulders as she smiled at him, her eyes begging him for information.

"I don't know," he said, pushing his fingers against the napkin and then straightening out the folds. "Why not ask Mom?"

The former teacher stood and reached for another cookie, holding one up in offer to Henry as well. "I sort of told your mom that it was a bad idea to find out the sex," she admitted. "I thought it would be nice to have a surprise."

Henry accepted the other cookie, breaking it in half and then again before he dipped it in the milk of his glass. "So you want me tell you so that you don't have to get an 'I told you' so from my mom?" He wrinkled his nose. "Kind of low there, Grandma."

She sighed. "I just thought that if they know, then I could find out and it would make buying my grandchildren some gifts a little easier," she said, her voice becoming more determined and certain. "And they would surely tell you."

"I'm sure they will," Henry said, sipping from the glass again. "But they have to have the ultrasound first." He laughed as his grandmother's face fell with the realization that she was not about to learn anything.

"They haven't had that yet?" she asked incredulously.

"Nope. That's scheduled for tomorrow."

She stood abruptly, reaching over a stack of well worn bridal magazines to peer at the calendar on the wall. "I thought today was Thursday," she said with a huff. "I could have sworn."

"Wednesday," he said. "Today's Wednesday." He chuckled again, tossing the last bit of the giant sized cookies into his mouth. "But you can ply me with more cookies tomorrow. Or brownies?"

***KECS***

"Does it hurt?" Killian asked when the ultrasound machine was coaxed to life. "It is an ominous looking contraption, love."

Emma was reclined on the narrow table, her legs draped with a paper cloth that seemed thin and unfortunately inadequate. One hand behind her head on an even more inadequate pillow and her other hand clasping Killian's, she was waiting on the technician to return and start the procedure that would tell her about the health of the twins and their sexes if they so chose.

"It doesn't hurt," she promised. "It's a little uncomfortable for them to press so hard to get a good view, but no pain."

She tapped her fingers on the back of his hand as she waited, impatient to get this going. Her phone was in her purse, buzzing with vibrations because she had not remembered to turn it off. It was probably her mother, who had practically invited herself to the test. "Are we going to ask?"

He raised his eyebrows at her in confusion, his thoughts still on how that machine could view her insides but not hurt her in any way. "Ask?"

"They should be able to tell if the babies are boys, girls, one of each," she explained for what felt like the fifth time since she had assumed the position on the table. "We can find out or we can be surprised when the babies are born."

"What do you wish, darling?" he asked, his voice unsure as to what was an appropriate response.

"I didn't find out with Henry," she said. "It made it seem more real. But there is a practical side to it. We can buy stuff. Decorate. Think of names."

Her hand was gripping his quite strongly, which he briefly considered as her way to prevent him from running. "You seem to want to know," he suggested.

"I guess," she said, removing her hand from behind her head to scratch her nose. "My mom said she wasn't planning to find out. It's just that we have one shot here. What if we decide that we don't want to know…"

He grinned, placing a kiss at her temple. "Whatever the result, I think that we shall be happy. The result won't change between now and the time they arrive?"

"No, they will still be whatever they will be," she answered. "So you're okay with knowing? I guess it could be fun to be surprised, but…"

Killian felt the grip tighten more and looked down at her honestly confused and perplexed face. He was glad he wasn't only one feeling that way, but couldn't help wondering if maybe one of them should be more knowledgeable here. "Love, you are the one with qualms about this. I would love to know, but whenever we find out is fine by me. So you decide."

"We're finding out," she declared, staring at a loose ceiling tile above her. She raises her head up a bit to look at the still closed door.

"So what are we hoping for here?" she asked, flexing and pointing her feet in nervous energy. "Any guesses?"

"I thought we weren't getting ourselves settled on any one thing," he reminded her. "No expectations?" She'd had that conversation with him when they first found out she was pregnant and again after they learned they were having twins. Expectations could take away the joy of the situation, she told herself. She just wanted to know the facts and be happy with them.

"I know," she muttered. "I know."

The ultrasound technician was wearing scrubs with teddy bears all over them, hardly the hospital issued variety. Referring to them as mom and dad rather than by their names, Emma instantly feels her stomach tie in knots as the woman spreads the abnormally warm gel on her stomach and turns the tiny monitor on with a single hand. A few more switches were activated and three large screens in the room were displaying the same grainy images.

Just like with the parenting classes and everything else that Killian has been forced to learn, he becomes the epitome of a nerdy student. Emma's eyes squinted at the screen closest to her, watching the cursor trace lines and curves as the woman measured two hearts, sets of lungs, spines, and other development. They were both healthy and slightly above average in terms of the size of twins, which made Emma groan and Killian smile at the thought of his strong and healthy children.

To Emma's amazement, Killian asked questions that were actually appropriate and necessary. He marveled over the same things as Emma, especially her astute statement that one of the twins is looking an awful lot like David.

"It appears they are cooperating so I can tell you the sex of both of them, if you choose," the woman said, pausing her hand movements with the grease covered wand. "Just say the word."

Emma looked toward Killian who merely smiled back at her and turned his eyes toward the monitor once again. His head was cocked to the side and his expression one of someone studying something for a test. "Yes," she told the woman. "We want to know."

The lady smiled and readjusted the wand with a twitch of her hand. "Well, Mom and Dad," she said as the image came back clearer. "Twin A is a girl. You are going to have a daughter."

Emma bit her lip and looked closer at the screen, unsure that she had heard the woman correctly. For all the talk of surprises and not caring as long as her babies were healthy, she'd been so sure that they were both boys. She'd already been playing with names for them, searching for the right combinations.

The wand moved again, blurring the picture on the screen into more lines and undistinguishable shapes. "And Twin B," the woman said, finding the second baby in the image. "Is a…"

Emma gripped Killian's hand tighter. "Wait," she said, clenching her eyes shut as if some ritual of prayer and wishing was going to change the results. She didn't even know the results and she was already wondering if she wanted to or not. The thought of having a girl was throwing her. She'd been a tom boy, a street smart girl who did not play with dolls and tea sets. A child in one of her foster homes had an EZ Bake Oven and she'd melted army men in it.

"Emma," Killian's voice rang out. "You're squeezing a bit tight."

She pried open one eye and looked at his expression. "Sorry," she muttered. Taking a deep breath, she turned her face back to the closest monitor. "Okay, I'm ready."

The technician sighed, her preoccupied expression evident as she looked from the monitor to the nearby clock and back again. "You do want to know, right?"

Emma was biting her lip so it was Killian who answered. "Aye," he confirmed. "We want to know."

"Twin B is a boy," the woman said in a flat even tone, then looked to Emma with a smile. "A boy and a girl, it appears. Congratulations."

***AAA***

David followed Marco into the new house with a sheet of paper in hand to discuss the fine points of the last items before the move-in date. "I think we're looking at a chair rail with the decorative molding underneath," he said to the older man, pressing his hand at the recommended height on the wall. "I am not sure if we've picked paint color yet."

Marco kneeled and marked the indicated spot with a half pencil and made notes on his faded notepad. "It's a good house," he said with his thick accent. "Strong foundation and sturdy construction."

David smiled, grateful for the praise of such a major purchase. "Thank you," he said sincerely. "I also appreciate all the help with the house. It's overwhelming to consider all of this, Snow, Emma, the ceremony, a baby on the way, a toddler at home, grandchildren, and my own job. I don't know that I could do half of what I needed to make this house livable for us."

Marco knocked on the walls, searching out for the studs and marking each in turn. "You said you have some special work for me too?" he asked.

David laid the sheet of paper on the bottom step and motioned for the Italian sound man follow him up the stairs. Waving his arm somewhat dramatically, he smile nervously. "I would like you to build something special for my wife."


	18. Chapter 18

**_For some reason my scenes in this story seem to stem around eating. Perhaps I should not write while hungry. _****_J_**

"Earth to David," Emma said as she dropped her coat over the coat rack arm and made her way into the room. "I thought we dealt with Ingrid already. She's not a threat."

David looked up sheepishly at his daughter and smiled. "Sorry. I didn't realize you were back yet." His hand was hovering over the remote control for an outdated television and a computer that Henry had helped to set up was next to it.

"What exactly are you doing?" she asked, recognizing the short video of her teenage self with Lily on the screen.

He paused the video. "I am working on a present for your mother," he said, frowning at the remote as though it was tattling on him. "Henry said there was a way to make pictures from video on a television. I have the pictures of Neal and Regina offered to give us one of Henry from when he was just a toddler himself. I was going to ask you about the pictures you got of the twins from your last appointment. Then there are the photos of your wedding, some other events, Henry's school photos…"

"And the video?"

David's face fell, the remote clattering to the desk. "I thought that if I could get this to work, I could add a photo of you from when you were young." He shrugged, his hands finding their way under his coat to fist at his waist. "We don't really have any."

Emma's teeth bit into her lower lip as she watched him look at the screen a bit longingly. She knew that while she had both horrible and good memories of a childhood that had been nothing like they had wished for her, they had pain too. They had pain of missed moments and opportunities still stung with shed and unshed tears. Silently she walked across the room and helped him to capture several images, teaching him to crop them so that it was only her in the frame.

Emma glanced toward the cabinet on the back wall of the office, her teeth grating against her bottom lip. "There might be something else," she said, sliding back the door and pulling out the brown banker's box out from its resting place. Thankfully her father did not ask for an explanation.

She dug out the cigar box and flipped it open, her hand gently touching a few of the items with the tips of her fingers. Lifting one item, she passed it to him. "That's me," she said. "It's a proof from a school picture. We were supposed to return them if we weren't buying, but I was moved to a new home and never went back to that school."

David cradled the photo in his hand, looking at the missing tooth smile of his daughter and her long blonde hair in two braids. "You were beautiful, Emma," he said mournfully. "How…"

"I was seven," she said, reboxing the items with one eye on him. "You can keep that for your project. I don't really have many photos of myself from when I was young, but it's something."

"Your mother will think it is everything."

***KECS***

Emma tugged on her husband's hand as they walked up to the door at Granny's, feeling his reluctance to enter the establishment. He'd avoided the place since his incident with Will, having only stopped in to make the necessary repairs as promised. Otherwise, the couple had eaten at her parents or at home so as to avoid the uncomfortableness of Granny's judgment.

"Can't you just go in and pick up the order?" he asked as they stepped over an icy patch on the sidewalk. "I could keep the vehicle running and warm for you."

She tugged a bit harder on his hand. "I want onion rings and they are only good when they are hot," she explained again. "They won't stay hot on the drive home and I really want them. The babies really want them too." Sticking her lower lip out, she gave her best pout and fluttered her eye lashes.

He chuckled, having heard the argument a few times and seeing the earnest expression in her eyes. "I thought you said you were giving up eating so close to bedtime," he reminded her. For the last two nights she had paced the floor with horrible indigestion, keeping him awake with her commentary about how she felt. While he had not complained, he did worry that her lack of sleep was something of a concern.

"I can't help it," she said, reaching for the door with her free hand. "I didn't want them earlier. I want them now."

Grabbing one of the only free tables, she debated if perhaps a bowl of chili would go with her craving for onion rings. Thankfully, for her stomach and Killian's, she did not order hot chocolate. He listened to her food debate, which turned into an all-out dilemma for a few moments when she saw someone else's order of chili cheese fries. Finally, she settled on the onion rings, a hamburger, and a flavored soda as her meal.

Killian only planned on having a drink, as he rarely felt the need for snacking that he had come to recognize from Emma and Henry. However, the look on Emma's face when he closed the menu without placing an order was enough to tell him that would be a mistake. He quickly corrected himself by telling Ruby that he would have the chili cheese fries, knowing that would save some frustration when Emma decided she wanted those more.

"My mother has been trying to bribe Henry with cookies to learn the sex of the babies," Emma said when they were alone again. "He said she's really trying to crack him."

Killian raised an eyebrow. "Why exactly aren't we telling her?" he asked. "She will surely torture your son and probably the two of us in her effort to learn the truth."

"This is my mother, not Regina or Rumpelstiltskin," she reminded him. "My mother will bribe and guilt us into tell her, but she hasn't actually asked me yet." Emma pushed the sleeves of her white shirt up toward her elbows, thinking that it was probably a mistake to wear a light color to the diner. "We aren't really holding it as a secret."

The food took up most of the table and true to form, Emma reached over to eat from his plate as well. He eventually pushed the plate toward her and let her have that instead of the hamburger that she had claimed was just not what she wanted.

***AAA***

David decided that the loft's downstairs bathroom was the only private sanctuary. Whenever he could, without raising suspicion of some digestive ailment, he stole away from the packing, organizing, and other duties to put the finishing touches on the framed photographs that he was going to have to somehow sneak over to the new house to hang. He'd come into luck twice as Mary Margaret was distracted for at least 20 minutes with a conversation with Granny about whether the sauce should be served on the chicken after the ceremony or if it should be available on the side. Then she spoke with Emma about remedies for heartburn, a conversation that lasted just as long.

Thankfully he had everything he needed, the printed photos, the frames, and even the mats that Emma had suggested would add a little something extra to the overall appearance. He smiled to himself as the pile of completed frames grew under his somewhat thoughtful disguise of a pile of towels.

"Sweetheart?" Mary Margaret asked, her shadow appearing in the frosted glass of the bathroom door. "Are you sick? Was it the crab cakes?"

"I'm fine," he shouted back, glancing quickly to see if he had remembered to lock the door. Hurriedly he hid the photos, frames, and supplies.

"Maybe it's a stomach virus," she suggested. "There's some of that pink medicine in the cabinet. It's behind the peroxide, I think. If it isn't there, check…"

"I'm not sick," David answered back. "I'll be out in a minute."

"There's ginger ale," she continued, her voice concerned. "Do you have a fever? I could call a doctor."

David let out an exasperated sigh. "I'm fine," he repeated. "Be out in a minute."

Mary Margaret huffed a bit as she left the door and headed back to check on Neal, who was calling out over the monitor. David just shook his head, deciding that he should limit his project to working at the station. When his wife emerged from upstairs, her expression indicated that she was suspicious of him.

"What exactly is going on?" she asked, her determined expression very much like their daughter. "Are you up to something?"

"No," he said almost convincingly. "So what's the deal with the chicken? Are we doing the sauce?"

***AAA***

Emma paced the short distance from the couch to the fireplace and back again, her bare feet cold on the floor. If there was anything that was similar to her pregnancy with Henry it was the awful heartburn she felt after eating anything. Never mind that she had scarfed down more grease than she normally did all because it sounded good at the time. Her son could eat a large pizza with pepperoni, salami, and peppers with no adverse effects. Killian seemed a bottomless pit once he found something in this realm that he enjoyed. Both of them were sleeping and she was pacing the floor wondering if she'd ever feel comfortable again.

Her mother was of little help, stating that a little seltzer water and she was on the mend. Sometimes Emma hated that her mother was Snow White, as it would be so much easier to hate her if she was some lesser fairy tale character. But no, it was hard to complain to a woman who saw birds as friends and sang while she worked. To say that she was uncomfortable or not liking something about being pregnant was like kicking a puppy in front of her.

"Emma?" Killian asked, appearing in the bedroom doorway. His hand ran across his stubble covered face and his hair stood in every direction. "Are you well?"

"Heartburn," she said, unsure why she was actually pacing. The movement made little difference, but it seemed a natural instinct.

She waited on him to say that he told her so, as he had warned her when she went on her ordering spree at Granny's. Instead he frowned with one glance toward the rumpled bed and the other toward her. "It does not help to lie down?"

"No," she answered tersely, regretting a bit that she was being rude. "Go back to bed, Killian. I can handle this."


	19. Chapter 19

**_Notes: I am so sorry for the lack of updates. We have had a case of the flu and the stomach flu in my house. So my husband, me, two 2-year-olds, and a 5 year old all have been down and out. Then all sorts of other things. But here is the next chapter. _**

"Just stop with the e-mails," Emma told her mother as they took their daily walk around the park's paved trail. "I don't want to know what I have to eat. What I should eat. What I can't eat and all that. It is driving me insane."

Mary Margaret looked startled as she stared at her daughter's pleading eyes. "There's just so much to know," the woman said with a sigh. "I didn't have all this advice with you or even with Neal."

"Most of it is crap," Emma reminded her mother, sipping on one of the smoothies that her mother insisted was healthier than the milkshakes, frozen hot chocolates, cocoa with cinnamon and other concoctions that Killian was becoming used to tracking down or preparing for her. "Don't take hot baths, only showers, no caffeine, no raw foods, only raw foods, sleep on your back, sleep on your side, don't have bad thoughts, eat standing up, eat lying down, only eat on Thursdays. I don't know who makes this stuff up."

The brunette mother smiled at her daughter's list of pregnancy rules that had been the majority of the subject of the e-mails that had passed between them over the past few weeks. "I just thought that…"

"It stresses me out," Emma interrupted, burying her hands in the sweat suit jacket that she was wearing for their walk. Her pregnancy had progressed to the point that her leather jackets no longer fit across her widening tummy. "You have had two children, Mom. Did you follow each and every one of those rules?"

"I didn't know about them," Mary Margaret protested. "We didn't have the same sort of medical care in the Enchanted Forest. With you we were simply thinking about your safety after your birth."

Ignoring the obvious joke about safety not usually meaning putting an infant in a wardrobe, Emma smiled at her mother. "Let's just go with the rules that Dr. Whale gives us, okay? We don't need to add a bunch of arbitrary ones that we can't possibly follow because they all contradict each other."

Her mother looked a bit defeated as she nodded and kept walking on their two-lap trip. Thankfully her face and attitude were back to the happy and exuberant woman when Emma brought up both the house and the ceremony. "Everything is going to be perfect," her mother declared. "Thank you for indulging me on the dress."

Emma grinned. Her mother had finally found the right dress for herself and for Emma to wear. Though it was not what Emma would have picked out, she was comfortable enough in it and had told Killian to lock up all junk food until after the ceremony in hopes that she would only gain baby weight in the final two weeks before she had to wear it. "I think they used all the sunny yellow delight fabric that they had in the state to make the tent I'll be wearing," Emma had declared during one of the fittings. "If I get any bigger, we're going to have an issue."

"Don't give me more things to worry about," her mother declared, linking her arm through her daughter's. "I cannot take the stress."

***AAA***

Emma pushed the ice cream sundae from her toward Henry. "You eat it," she declared vehemently. "I'm not eating sweets until after this ceremony thing. I have to fit in that dress."

"One ice cream sundae is not going to make a difference," Killian suggested helpfully.

Henry looked skeptically at both of them, his hands tremulously reaching for the dessert that was offered. "I don't mind helping," he said in his best son voice. "I like ice cream."

"That's where it starts," Emma noted ruefully. "I eat that ice cream sundae. Then I need more chocolate. That means you have to go get me a candy bar, but you can't decide which one so you bring back four different ones in the hopes that I'll like one of them. Only thing is that I will like all of them and eat all of them. Then that'll remind me that I haven't had hot chocolate in a while and I'll drink that, but you can't just drink that alone. So I'll get whipped cream and probably a pastry or something. Then I'm up walking the floor at night because I ate too much." She sighed dramatically. "Then I am tired the next morning and I can't have coffee because of the caffeine and the fact that all that chocolate I had equals too much caffeine. So I eat extra bacon and eggs for the protein, but that's too salty so I go for something sweet afterward. Then I come here for dinner with my two favorite guys and you try to convince me that I should eat the ice cream sundae because it is just one dessert and what could that hurt?"

Henry's eyes were wide and his mouth closed around the spoon as his mother's diatribe of the evils of the ice cream sundae ran circles in his head. He had always just thought of it as ice cream with sauce.

"That sounds like a grand conspiracy, love," Killian laughed. "If it will help, I shall no longer offer you any sweet treats?"

She pursed her lips together, reaching a finger out to swoop up a bit of the chocolate sauce from the sundae that had dripped along the side of the glass. "We don't have to be that extreme," she said. "I just need to fit in that dress."

Dropping the spoon into the now half-empty sundae dish, Henry gripped the sides of his head and moaned in agony as he swayed back and forth. "Brain freeze," he squeaked out, clenching his eyes shut and moaning again for effect.

Killian looked a bit disturbed by the boy's obvious pain, but Emma pushed a glass of water toward him. "Drink," she said. "It will help until it passes."

"Pain," the teenager grumbled, gulping at the water with little success. "So much pain."

"He seems to be struggling, love," Killian said, appearing more and more upset by Henry's distress. "Shouldn't we do something?"

Emma smiled patiently at her husband and then glanced back at her son who appeared to be on the mend. "He'll be fine in a minute. He just ate the ice cream too fast."

"The ice cream had that ill effect on him?"

***AAA***

Mary Margaret's favorite chair for the living room was the first item that was unloaded from the moving van that Saturday morning. She sat herself down in it immediately and was directing each of the dwarfs, David, Henry, Ruby, and Killian on where every piece of furniture, box, and various items needed to be placed in the new Nolan home. Emma tried to help too, but more often than not, her efforts were greeted with resounding arguments that she should not do that.

"That box is way too heavy for you, love," Killian said, replacing the not so heavy box with a thin blanket to carry to the linen closet upstairs.

"I'll take that," Henry said, bounding up the stairs sometimes two at a time.

"You shouldn't be on your feet so much," her father said, placing his hands on her shoulders and steering her to where they now had a chair next to where Mary Margaret was situated.

The blonde woman pouted as the activity around her increased and the once empty house was filled with way more than could have possibly come from the loft. "Are you sure that's not a magical doorway or a truck?" Emma asked as her mother directed two more dwarfs where to take the boxes of pots and pans, as though that should not have been an obvious guess. "I swear I think they are multiplying."

Neal's toy cars were already littering the living room rug and the boy's roars and babbling of dinosaurs seemed to be confusing most of the help. Emma slid off the chair to sit with her brother on the floor, ignoring her mother's protests that she should rest. "We had some things in storage," her mother told her, directing Henry with a flick of her wrist. "And we've bought stuff to go with the house. Plus some housewarming gifts and all."

Emma just shook her head, placing her hand over the red car and pushing it along with her mouth making sputtering noises. Neal laughed gleefully at his sister's sound effects and attempted to mimic her as he pushed his own car along. The two played for a few more minutes until she saw her husband collapse in the chair behind her. Leaning backward so that she rested against his legs, she tilted her head back to glance up at him. "Tired already?"

"Your father," he said, wrinkling his nose, "has determined that the best use for my hook is to open that dreadfully sticky tape that closes the boxes securely. I cannot begin to tell you how hard it is to remove that substance from my hook."

Emma and her mother both laughed at his annoyance. "He'll find you in here," Mary Margaret warned. "Better find something to do."

Handing her brother back his car, Emma threw up her arms and asked Killian to help her up off the floor. "I have an idea," she said as he pulled her up and gave her a quick kiss on her cheek. Pulling him along with her she grabbed a hammer and nails, pointed to the pictures that Mary Margaret had others place around the room and smiled. "We're going to hang all of these where my mother says."

***AA***

A few hours and several boxes of take out later, all of the helpers had gone home and left Mary Margaret and David with their son and daughter, as well as Killian and Henry. The teenager and toddler were both laid out on the floor watching a cartoon on someone's tablet. Emma and Killian squeezed themselves into the oversized chair and were playfully arguing about which one of them most needed a foot rub. David looked tired but smug as he reclined on the couch with his head in Mary Margaret's lap and her hand running over the front of her hair.

"I'd say this was a successful moving day," the prince announced, looking about the room that had taken better shape than he thought.

"Well if that law enforcement thing ever fails you," Emma teased, "you could consider a career in moving, but I don't know how much work there will be in Storybrooke. People here aren't really mobile."

"We could call it Fairy Tale Movers," Henry joked from his spot on the floor. "People outside of Storybrooke would pay a fortune to have Prince Charming and Captain Hook move their belongings."

Killian pretended to be offended by the idea, but his smile at being included in an idea with his father-in-law was evident. "I don't think that is a career I'm interested in exploring."

Pretending to be equally offended at Killian's rebuff, David pouted as well. "You had to carry items on and off your ship," he said as though that might make his point easier. "Clearly you're experienced in moving goods from one port to another."

"I was a pirate not a shipping captain," Killian pointed out as Emma giggled and laid her head toward his chest. "If we'd had as much loot as you had us move in here today, the Jolly Roger would have sank to the bottom of the sea."

Mary Margaret groaned in the realization that her husband and son-in-law were soon to argue their way through another evening. "Let's just say that neither of you are in need of another career," she said firmly. "Neither one of you have the patience to take up a new skill and neither of you would work well with the other. I, on the other hand, have been extremely patient and even stayed on the first floor today so that you could have your little surprise for me. So can we please do this? I want my surprise."

Chuckling at his wife's childlike demeanor and grumbling about how the cushions on the couch sank too much, David got to his feet and pulled her with him. "Fine," he said. "You have been very patient. I have two surprises for you. Choose first floor or second floor."

Choosing the second floor, Mary Margaret ran to the stairs with her husband, Neal and Henry hot on her heels.

"You did not wish to see the surprise?" Killian asked as he was pulled back down into the chair by Emma.

"I've seen it, as have you." She shrugged nonchalantly, her lips in a knowing smile. "Besides I'm feeling something strange." She tried not to laugh as he jumped back into ready position.

"What is it, Emma?" he asked suddenly. "Are you in pain? Is there something…"

She did not speak at first, grabbing his hand and placing it under hers as she pressed his fingers against the swell of her abdomen. Smiling, she waited for his response which shifted from confusion to fear. "Darling is that…"

"One of the baby's is kicking," she said with a smile. "Isn't that cool? I've been feeling it every once in a while, but right now he or she is kicking like nobody's business."

He did not move his hand from the thumping feeling against her, his own expression changing to a smile before his face fell with alarm. "The baby is not kicking the other one, right?"

Emma laughed and shook her head. "No, I think he or she is just kicking to say hello to us right now."

***AAA***

Mary Margaret stood in the hallway outside the bedrooms and gaped at the two walls decorated with framed pictures of her family. David had gathered as many as he could, including ones from Regina of Henry and the few of Emma as a child and teenager. The twins' ultrasounds were prominently displayed, as was a collage of Neal's milestones in photographs. Henry had even lent his grandfather the coveted storybook to scan a few of the pages that included pictures of them. Not all of them were from bygone days though, as there was the picture of them with Emma just before the wedding, a photograph of Henry with his grandparents at the school carnival, and even one of Regina with both Emma and Mary Margaret outside the library that Emma had teasingly called three generations of the same age.

"I thought you would like to see how far we have come," he said as she walked up the hallway slowly, her fingers reaching out to touch the framed shots. "I have more frames ready for after all these babies are born and our new ceremony."

Henry was laughing in the background as he held Neal up to check out one of the photos. "Baby!" Neal yelled loudly, not realizing that the picture was of him.

"It's wonderful," Mary Margaret said, squealing a bit when she saw one that she liked. "I'll spend a lot of time out here just staring and remembering."

"You think you'll have that much free time?" David asked with mock seriousness, wrapping his arms around his wife from behind as she studied another grouping of photographs. "At least I'll know where to find you."

The foursome stayed upstairs for a few more minutes, laughing and commenting on some of the different photographs when David looked toward the window and sighed. "One more surprise," he said, unwrapping himself from his wife and pulling her toward the second floor deck. "This one is for Neal too so, Henry bring him along."


	20. Chapter 20

_**Next chapter (this weekend) is the ceremony for Snow and Charming! Hope you enjoy a little fluff before then.**_

David ran the plate under the water from the faucet and placed it in line with the others in the dishwasher, a towel over his shoulder in the perfect picture of domesticity. The square window over the sink offered him the perfect view of the backyard where his wife and son were currently playing on the second part of his gift to Mary Margaret. Marco had truly outdone himself, creating a castle like playset, complete with turrets and a drawbridge for Neal to enjoy.

"It's like back home," she had whispered as they looked own on it from the back deck of their new house. Always a little more emotional than most people, she wiped away the tears with her hand and promised that she absolutely loved it. The backyard had been one of the reasons she wanted a new house for them. She was already imagining their children and grandchildren playing there as he grilled hamburgers and she and Emma sipped on tea.

Neal seemed to adore it, climbing every surface and yelling out to them so they could appreciate his dexterity and bravery. Emma had appreciated it too, commenting that she'd have loved it as a small child. As usual, David noted the wistfulness in her eyes that was quickly replaced with happiness with a reassuring squeeze from her husband.

"Are you going to join us?" Mary Margaret called through the doorway. "Neal wants to fight a few dragons."

Chuckling, David knew that his son just wanted to get his hands on the wooden swords that Marco had included. The master woodworker had created several sizes so that Neal and any nieces, nephews and siblings could grow into them. Picking one of the smallest, David proceeded to offer his son his first real lesson. Maybe it wasn't the cleanest fake fight or even the way he had intended for the lesson to go, but the toddler loved swinging the stick and the loud thumping noised it made against the mini-suit of armor that Marco included as a knight to guard the castle.

"Our neighbors are going to love that," Mary Margaret joked when David helped her up from where she sat with her legs sprawled out in front of her.

Tag teaming as parents often find themselves doing, they managed to bathe and get the young prince into bed with only one extra story and a slight flood on the bathroom floor when he insists on a water fight with no one in particular. David asked with mock seriousness if they should be worried about his antics, but as a good mother, Mary Margaret found it all rather amusing.

"Did Emma seem okay to you?" she asked, momentarily cheerful as she found the hand lotion she had been searching for since the move. "She looked a little pale to me."

"She's fine," David reassured, pulling the freshly added sheets and blankets down so that he could climb into the bed. "She's working her regular shifts, Regina's been busy with things so Henry's been there more, and from the sounds of it Killian said she's trying to mimic Martha Stewart with all the household tasks. He said he's planning to hide her phone and computer so she can't find any more do it yourself projects."

Running her hands together and then up her forearms, she rubbed in the floral scented lotion. Frowning, she added some more and then frowned again. She held her hands out to David who allowed her to spread the excess onto his palms too. "You smell like lilacs now," she said as she joined him on the bed. "She really needs to cut back. She's having twins for goodness sake. She should be kicking back and relaxing."

"Have you met our daughter?" David laughed, wrinkling his nose as he smelled the feminine scent of his hands. "She doesn't relax."

"Maybe not, but I'd still rather her take care of herself than run around and put herself and our grandchildren at risk."

David reached over to turn out the light and then snuggled in next to his wife who was still sitting with her back against the headboard. She was clearly ready to talk rather than sleep. "She's not going to do anything stupid," he said with a yawn. "She's going to be careful."

Mary Margaret lifted and readjusted the blanket over her legs. "Maybe, but I was thinking that maybe we should help her out. We could hire a housekeeper. Just someone who could come in and do a few chores, maybe a little grocery shopping, and take the load off of Emma would be good." She smiled happily at her plan.

"First," David said, rolling onto his back when he realized his wife was seriously planning to debate this issue, "how can we afford to do that? We have a mortgage, our own baby to get ready for, Neal's preschool tuition to think about, and this place is not going to be cheap on electricity and gas to heat and cool." He could feel her eyes on him, judging his reluctance. "Secondly, Emma would kill us. She'd take it as a sign that we don't think she can handle things."

Mary Margaret slid from her sitting position to lie next to him. "It wouldn't hurt to check," she protested. "It might not be too expensive."

He turned back to his side, covering the now protruding stomach with his hand. "Honey, I love that you want to take care of our daughter. I do too, but she isn't going to let you send some stranger into her home. Besides, as much as I hate to admit it, she has Killian. He's been doing most of the cooking and from what Henry says he's been trying to keep her happy with cleaning and even moving furniture the other day when she saw a television show about losing your energy through bad furniture placement. He even moved it back when she said she didn't like it."

Mary Margaret's hands joined his. "You're defending the pirate?" she asked incredulously. "What have you done with David?"

"It's painful," he admitted teasingly. "But I'm willing to give him some credit." His nose nuzzled into his wife's neck playfully but with purpose. "I don't want to talk about him while I'm in bed with you though."

"You don't?" Mary Margaret laughed. "I thought you were tired? You said you didn't want to christen our new bed and our new house." She tried her best to sound accusatory, but failed as she bit back a giggle.

"I'm in a celebratory mood," he grinned over her, dropping a series of kisses on her face and ending at her mouth.

"And what are we celebrating?"

"Plumbing," he answered, again with a muffled voice as his mouth trailed along her jaw. "Do you realize that we have enough hot water that we washed a load of dishes in the dishwasher and bathed our son? At the loft we'd still be waiting for the water to heat up."

His wife nudged his shoulder to send him backward, worrying him that she was about to reject him. However, she followed his pat so that she hovered above him. "Well by all means, let's celebrate some hot water."

***KECS***

The next morning Emma's legs dangled off the side of the bed and her fingers were steepled together over her stomach. She kicked her bare feet through the air with scissor like movements. "They aren't going to fit," she announced as Killian patted his hair dry with a towel and looked at her in confusion. "My shoes for the ceremony. My feet and ankles are swollen and I can't get the right one on at all and the left one cuts off my circulation."

He peeked out from under the fluffy green towel and smiled with a lopsided grin. "You could wear other shoes?" It was the wrong question. He knew it as soon as he heard it leave his mouth and by the look on her face that said she might actually harm him if she could get up off the bed from that position. He considered running.

"I cannot wear other shoes," she explained with a calm voice through a clenched jaw. "My mother picked out those shoes. Ruby and I are supposed to wear the same shoes." She kicked her feet a bit higher. "And now I cannot do it because I'm like a whale already and I'm not to my third trimester. And by the time I am you're going to have to bring me all my meals because I won't be able to fit through the door." She folded her arms up over her eyes and let out a strangled grunt. "This is your fault."

Dropping the towel on the floor, he knew she would protest that as well. "Emma, darling, they are just shoes. Your mother will understand. She might not even notice."

"Have you met my mother?" she asked with a dramatic sigh. "My mother spent three weeks deciding which shade of yellow would look best without turning me into Big Bird or washing out Ruby's skin tone. She spent an entire weekend deciding between six types of chocolate cake only to go with carrot cake. She nixed a whole set of invitations for this event because the font was too close to what Regina and Robin used and she wanted to be original. She's going to notice my shoes."

He knelt down, his shirt still lying beside her on the bed and his pants riding low on his hips. Picking up the shoes, he smiled. "They are like little death contraptions, love," he said. "Perhaps you just need some help."

Emma appeared ready for a good pout, her bottom lip already protruding and her nose crinkling as he ran his hand along one leg and then the other. "That's not going to help," she chastised, her pout falling into a grin. "It feels good, but it isn't going to help me fit in those shoes."

He chuckled, kissing the tip of each of her knees and then throwing his head back to look at her. "Why are you even trying them on right now? It's two days before the ceremony."

"I was worried," she said honestly. "I can feel how much they have swelled and I didn't want a last minute surprise." She placed her hands together and out in front of her as if an amateur diver. "Help?"

He clamored to his feet and pulled her up to a sitting position. "So they don't fit. What would you like me to do?" He sounded so typically male, expecting to be able to solve her problems when she might just want to whine and complain for a moment in a venting session rather than have him shout out suggestions.

"I'm going to call my mother and tell her that I may need to walk down the aisle in fuzzy slippers," she said. "The pictures will look great."

He settled next to her, pulling her head onto his still damp shoulder. "You could go barefoot." His hand automatically looped up to finger through the long blonde hair that he had already made a few comments about hoping at least one of the twins got from her.

"Not a beach ceremony," she reminded him. "My parents are going for a little more high class. But I suppose it will take a trip to the shoe store and some creativity." She groaned. "You don't know how lucky you are that your wife hates shopping. I could be one of those types who always has our bank account at zero over what we just had to have."

He was less teasing as he told her that he was the lucky one.


	21. Chapter 21

"Most bachelorette parties are held in a bar or male strip club," Ruby mused. "We're drinking green tea and having pedicures. It's not exactly the wild side, is it?" The dark haired waitress wiggled her toes in the swirling water and sighed contentedly though she kept a look of disdain on her features.

"This is Mary Margaret, also known as Snow White," Regina added, her own expression more relaxed. "I don't see her sticking dollar bills in a g-string."

Emma and her mother both had their hands wrapped around steaming mugs of herbal teas and were groaning appreciatively as the bubbling water massaged their feet and the scent of flowers and tropical soap wafted through the air.

"No jokes," Mary Margaret declared, pushing another button on the massage chair and giggling and what was labeled magic fingers pressed with rolling consistency into the muscles of her back. "I need this."

"Are we at least going to play any games?" Ruby asked. "I could go for truth or dare."

"No," Regina objected, accepting a magazine from one of the estheticians. "I'm not playing party games with a bunch of grown women. It's childish and immature."

"Sounds like someone has something to hide," Mary Margaret teased, leaning forward to look down the line of women. "We should make Regina go first."

Pushing her lips out into a pout, Regina ran a hand through her raven black hair and laughed. "You are not a woman I would trust with my secrets," she reminded her. "I've learned that lesson."

"Hey," the bride to be said with mock indignation. "I was 10."

Ruby rolled her eyes and passed the menu of services over to Ashely who was next in the line of women. "So truth or dare is out," she said. "I guess it would be hard to come up with dares we can do sitting down."

As the technician lifted Emma's foot out of the water and began to massage the tender and swollen flesh of her arch, the pregnant woman giggled uncontrollably, slouching in her seat as though she could hide from the women who now stared at her in confusion and amusement. "I'm ticklish, okay?" she asked. "This is one of the reasons I don't do this as a group activity." She rolled her lips into a thin line and closed her eyes in concentration.

The other women laughed, except Regina who laughed sympathetically. "So if we're being honest," she said with a little less haughtiness than she was used to expressing. "I have the same problem. My reflexes are so tight that I have almost kicked people who touch my feet. Robin can just point at them and I'm in hysterics."

***KECS***

"I think we had more entertaining male gatherings back in Sherwood Forest," Robin grumbled as David passed him a bowl of popcorn with a warning not to spill any on the floor or he'd have to face Mary Margaret and her Dustbuster.

"There are children present, mate," Killian laughed as he inspected the cards in his hands. "You can't expect drunken brawls, dancing girls, and bonding with so many underage tykes running about."

The men were having their card game/bachelor party with root beer, sodas, and popcorn as Henry, Roland, Neal and assortment of other children played board games or drove (read threw) toy trucks down the stairs at the Nolans' new home. Even the music was tame, much to the chagrin of Will and Philip, as David and Robin had been coerced into playing the soundtrack to some animated film that every child in the room under five seemed to know by heart.

"You'll be singing along yourself," David joked with Killian. "The music is kind of addictive."

"Is there a reason that this party is including naptime and sippy cups?" Will wondered aloud. "The women are off having some wild time and we're playing governesses to the town's offspring." He looked around the coffee table and grimaced as he realized that all of the men in attendance were husbands and/or fathers. He was alone in his observations. "Where are your lovely wives anyway?"

David laughed. "Hardly a wild time for them," he said, shuffling the deck of well worn cards that the men had come to use weekly. "Mary Margaret and Emma have arranged for a night of pedicures and manicures, as well as other beauty related activities. With the two of them pregnant, one cannot expect bar hopping and dance clubs."

"I suppose that means we're limited in our activities too," Robin added, glancing over at Roland who was chasing Alexandra and Neal with some sort of stuffed animal that looked almost mutilated. As most parents do, he considered the scene for a moment before leaving them to sort it out on their own rather than jump in to stop it. "But we could have at least hired a stripper."

"I'd like to see your face when Regina heard of that bit of entertainment," Killian challenged. "She'd likely string you up and rip your heart out while the rest of us were made to watch."

Robin opened his mouth to protest, but shut it as the cards arrived in front of him. "You're right. She'd kill me. Reformed or not."

The men laughed at him and then themselves as they agreed their own wives would object as well. The night was hardly typical of their poker games. To ensure a quiet evening without the drama of fighting or arguments, they had limited their betting to a dollar per hand and replaced their rum and beer with soft drinks. The drinks had been Mary Margaret's suggestion after telling him that she was not going to put up with a group of men in sunglasses nursing hangovers during her ceremony.

David was winning most of the hands, even offering to use some of the money to purchase pizza for the men who objected to him funding his own bachelor party. They were discussing the payment arrangements and pizza toppings – an impossible task among stubborn men who alternately shouted opinions and helped Henry break up fights over toys.

"You're more than earning the wage David promised you for your help," Killian said to his stepson when the two of them were alone in the kitchen searching for plates for the pizza. "I'd say that you're due double that amount."

Henry looked proud but shrugged his shoulders in humility. "It's not like I had much of a choice."

Killian watched the boy thoughtfully, his hand raking across his face as he considered. "Are you still wanting a dog?" he asked, bluntly posing the question.

"Mom said no," Henry commented. "Actually both of my moms said no." He looked downward. "I tried, but they were pretty set on it."

"Perhaps I could try," Killian said, mimicking the boy's earlier shrug. "I could talk to Emma."

***KECS***

"Bees may actually chase us down the aisle," Ruby mused, noting the table of flower laden accessories that she and Emma are supposed to divvy up and wear with their lemon yellow dresses. "Do you think it would help if I said I was allergic?"

"She's probably got antihistamines in that bag of hers," Emma muttered back. "It's got everything from needle and thread to butt glue. Are we in a wedding or a beauty contest?"

Ruby giggled and picked up one of the two circle wreaths of flowers that the two attendants were supposed to wear in their hair. "This reminds me of a flower girl," she said firmly. She placed the circle of yellow buttercups and white daisies over the top of her head, brown curls spilling out the sides. "Look at me, I'm five."

"We're horrible and awful people," Emma declared with her arms folded and resting on the protruding belly that if her mother had gotten her first dress choice would have polka dots and a big yellow bow on it. "You are incorrigible Ruby Lucas."

"I can't help it," Ruby declared. "And neither can you. Your mother is a lovely woman, hormonal as hell, but still lovely. She's the perfect bride, even if she is beginning to show." The bridesmaid looked through the open doorway at the bride's back. The loose sheath of a white dress caressed every curve and the long lace sleeves delicately capped the woman's arms. All three women's hair was curled around their faces and they wore matching necklaces that Mary Margaret had picked out for them.

Ruby glanced down at Emma's feet. "She's letting you get away with that?" Emma was wearing some cheap flip flops and frowned. She had bought some shoes to wear, but they weren't very comfortable and she was dreading wearing them.

"Don't start," Emma said, turning toward her mother again. "Okay…I can do this. I can be happy and giddy. I'll just pretend that I'm not miserable and hormonal." She laughed. She honestly wasn't that bad, but when compared to her mother she felt like a sloth. She couldn't fit in her shoes. Her mother still appeared delicate. She had nightly heartburn attacks that would make a man spill trade secrets. Her mother could eat anything. Her babies were practicing Irish step dancing in her womb. Her new brother or sister was barely visible in her mother's belly. Emma was sweetly understanding about the changes in her life and body. Her mother was excited and exuberant.

"You look perfect, Mom," Emma said, giving her a side hug so as not to mess up either of their dresses. "I must admit. You're my hero. Getting ready for a new baby, running after a toddler, moving into a new house, and planning a wedding all within weeks. You deserve a medal."

Mary Margaret smiled brightly at her daughter. "I know you don't want to do this. You hate being the center of attention."

"I'm hardly the center of it," Emma said. "I'm not the bride."

"No, but you are on display," her mother corrected. "And you're not comfortable with that."

Emma pursed her lips together and brought her hand up to push back the sides of her mother's hair so that the new earrings shone. "I am fine. This is your day. Don't worry about me. Besides, if I spend the whole day complaining that will officially make me the worst daughter and matron of honor ever."

Emma and Ruby helped Mary Margaret with the finishing touches on both the creamy off white dress with the lace overlay. A sprig of yellow and white flowers were pinned in her short hair just by her right ear. The gold chain necklace with the lariat that had been Ruth's prized possession hung around her neck.

"You just need your shoes," Emma said, glancing under the table that was still covered in tulle and lace that had been rejected and set aside. "Where are they?"

Mary Margaret brushed an invisible piece of lint off her dress as Ruby unbuckled the straps of her own shoes. "I'm not wearing any," she said, smiling knowingly at the two women.

"Mom," Emma said, not sure that she understood. "I got a pair of flats that have a little stretch. My feet aren't even that swollen today. I'll be fine." She looked at the two women with a mixture of shock and appreciation. "Seriously?"

"No one is going to care about our footwear or lack thereof."

The bridal party was obviously small. Emma and Ruby stood up as Mary Margaret's attendants as Henry and Killian stood up with David. Killian had balked at first, but the idea was too much a part of Mary Margaret's vision and not debatable. Neal was to be the ring bearer, which meant that Henry had agreed to wrestle him down the aisle and not allow him to throw or eat the rings. Thankfully he was successful.

David watched Mary Margaret approach him as a bride for the third time in their lives, feeling every bit the bashful and nervous groom that he had teased Killian about being just a few months earlier. She joined her hand with his with such force that he felt jolts in his fingers and wondered briefly if Emma's magic was in fact derived from her rather than the combination of their true love.

They'd had the private ceremony and the royal one, both filled with sentiment and tradition that he would not trade. So when it came to this one, he was happy that it was less formal and more relaxed. It somehow made it more intimate and honest.

She's staring up at him with wide eyes as Neal squeals in the background about a dutterfly – his word for butterflies, which he considers to be a great enemy. There is the murmured shushing from Henry and amused chuckling from Killian as the toddler breaks free of Henry and latches firmly to Mary Margaret's leg as Archie continues the ceremony.

"We lead an extraordinary life," he told her, both of their hands clasped together and Neal's shining eyes staring up at them from under the lace overlay of her dress. Emma hissed for Neal to come to her, but the boy ignored it all.

"It feels very ordinary at the moment," Mary Margaret laughed, smiling down at their son. "And perfect."

They shared some simple vows, ones that told of being hit upside the head rather than a kiss and of being kissed out of a sleeping curse. They shared their hopes for a happy family, that they would continue to love and get to know their daughter, watch their son grow and be surrounded in their new home by friends, family, children, and grandchildren.

"You sounded as though you are both ready for rocking chairs at the retirement home," Emma joked with them at the reception. Her hand was curled around a glass of lemonade that was serving as champagne for toasts and merriment. Killian had rolled his eyes when she told him that.

"Don't forget the actual age of your husband," her mother teased back. "If anyone's ready for rocking chairs and retirement homes, it's him."

Killian dropped his mouth in his own display of mock indignation. "I didn't accuse you of being old," he protested. "Why am I being dragged into this?"

"Easy target," David responded. "Come on. I know where Granny keeps the booze. Maybe she'll feel sorry for us."

Mary Margaret stood there with her daughter as the men sauntered off in search of refreshments, something that David said was simply to mark the occasion. Killian referred to it as a necessity.

"It was a beautiful ceremony, Mom," Emma said, kissing the brunette woman's cheek. "I'm glad I got to be a part of it this time."

"Me too," she said. "You know. For a woman who claims to not be sentimental and not a romantic, you're getting quite a reputation." She smiled at the cautious and curious eyebrow raise from her daughter. "Ruby said she had to hand you tissue because of the tears."

"Vicious rumors." Emma laughed. "Seriously though. You cannot expect me not to cry. I cry at commercials these days. I cry when Henry does his homework. I even cried the other day when I realized the milk was expired and we hadn't drank it all. Don't feel honored that I cried at your wedding."


	22. Chapter 22

After David and Mary Margaret came back from their short honeymoon – Emma insisted they take one but not too long of one since she and Killian would be watching Neal – life settled into a normal pattern for everyone. Emma and David continued to split their shifts at the station, David worrying about his daughter and trying not to show it as she became annoyed with his hovering. Mary Margaret worked with Regina to hand back over the reigns of the mayor's position, even picking back up with a few classes at the school since she missed the job so much.

Mary Margaret took her responsibilities for decorating the new house very seriously and was constantly waving paint or fabric samples under her husband's nose. She'd also turned all of the energy she'd had for planning a wedding ceremony into naming her new child and new grandchildren. Emma threatened to throw her phone out into the harbor next time she was woken up at 3 a.m. with suggestions names, complete with links to their meanings.

"I think Ann and Andy," Mary Margaret said one afternoon over ice cream. "It just sounds cute."

"Like the dolls?" Emma asked, raising and incredulous set of eyebrows at her mother. "I'm not naming my children after toys."

"There's always Leopold," she suggested, ignoring the groans from the other three adults and Henry. "I don't understand why you don't think that is a good strong name."

Henry almost spit out his fresh whipped milkshake. "Leopold? You could call him Leo the Lion for short." Henry guffawed over his joke, as Emma rolled her eyes again. "You could name them after Lion King characters. My brother could be Simba."

Emma lifted the cherry from the top of her sundae and again wondered how it could be so perfectly sweet and red. "Don't encourage them. Next thing you know, you'll be finding out that Simba's your second cousin or something."

Killian chuckled at the annoyed expression that continued to grow on Emma's face and the hopeful one that mirrored it on Mary Margaret's. He knew his wife was patient, as she had to be in her line of work. But overly exuberant mothers or parents in general were hard for a woman who grew up as an orphan in the foster care system.

"Have you two come up with a name for the new prince or princess yet?" he asked, well aware that Mary Margaret was sticking to her guns that she would not find out the sex of the baby and ruin the surprise. Emma gave him a grateful smile to be out of the spotlight for a brief moment.

Mary Margaret continued her happy beam, rattling off a list of names that she had deemed almost right, not quite right, or darned near perfect. She was clearly enjoying the challenge and even managed to work in a way to tell Emma how they had decided on her name back before she was born.

***KECS***

Emma caught herself wanting to giggle as she woke up just as the sun was beginning to peek through the curtains of their bedroom. Usually Killian was awake first, already up and completing the tasks on his agenda before she had bothered to shower. So she enjoyed the sight of him in bed next to her, his hand splayed across her midsection as though he did not want to miss any of the late night acrobatics the twins might partake in – something she would have gladly delayed until more wakeful hours. His head was buried half under the pillow and half at her shoulder with short bursts of warm air tickling her skin. He was covered in at least three blankets, a burrito like position in their apartment that was kept a full 10 degrees cooler than he would have preferred because she was always complaining about being too hot.

She slept with the protection of a single sheet and a thin shirt that she had since removed the sleeves from while he was layered in flannel rather than his normal more undressed state. There was something sweetly young about his features as he slept, the years melting off his face with a soft relaxation that she knew he could not replicate when the memories of a long life and the tribulations of days cast their shadow over him.

She considered the situation for a moment, the comfort she felt at his side and the safety she felt within the span of his arms. It was hardly something she had planned, scoffed at would be more accurate. Ran from would have been more accurate still. She was actually frightened sometimes at the woman she had become in Storybrooke, the woman who went from loner to joiner within weeks. The woman who now had friends and family was surpassing the presence of the woman who kept people at arm's length. She had an address, not just a temporary one. She actually had things stored in boxes and paintings on the walls. She bought paper supplies in bulk and had left overs in her refrigerator. She had roots.

"Either you are very uncomfortable or you're thinking, love," Killian said, startling her because she had not known he was awake. His voice was gravely and his lids hooded much of the blue of his eyes. She'd tried to convert him to later sleeping, reminding him that with the modern touches of electricity one did not have to live and sleep by the sunrise and sunset. He was a stubborn student.

She did have to admit that his reactions to her were often adorable. There was always a mixture of pride, downright concern, and confusion at every movement the babies made. If one kicked, he beamed like the proud father he was then looked to her with concern that perhaps that little movement might have hurt her or them in some way. That was usually topped off by his confused state of not quite understanding how she seemed to know what they were doing in there.

Drawing in a sharp breath, she scrunched her face and waited for the latest rhythm to play itself out. That seemed to be the new thing as her third trimester loomed near on the calendar. One baby would do something followed by the other. It was like an out of sync ballet every day. So as the baby on the right kicked especially hard, she readied herself for the same reaction on the left. Sure enough it came.

"I wonder sometimes if you are black and blue inside from their acrobatics," Killian said, furrowing his brow. "I don't like that this is painful for you."

She smiled, rotating her face toward him. "You do realize that any more children we have, you're carrying them."

He chuckled, his hand cool against her. "While I never cease to marvel at the magic and innovation of this realm, I'm not sure that is all that possible." Winking, he propped himself up on one elbow. "Sleep well?"

"Believe it or not, yes," she said. "I'm not complaining. I also wouldn't complain if you made me breakfast." She raised her eye brows up and down playfully to make him laugh. He only complained twice before unwrapping himself from the cocoon of blankets and running into the other room with some muttered comments about ice tundras and pregnant wives who were trying to freeze him out.

He waited until she downed a cup or two of tea, consumed her eggs and bacon, as well as snagged a few pieces of his, and was munching on a piece of toast. That was when he proposed the question about adopting a dog for Henry. She only turned him down flatly twice before she listened to his argument.

"It might be good for responsibility," he said, mentally going over the list that Henry had provided him with. "He's a good kid and this would be a wonderful way for him to learn to take care of something on his own."

Emma snorted at his choice of words, hearing her son's vocabulary sneaking into the speech. "Dogs are great," Emma agreed. "But they are messy, a lot of work, and a lot of responsibility. We're about to bring two human babies into this apartment. I am not about to bring a dog into the mix when I'm worried we're going to crack under the pressures of parenthood." She took another sip of the tea he had made her, watching his pleading eyes over the rim of her cup. "Please don't look at me like that."

"I told the boy I'd broach the subject with you," he said a bit dejectedly. "Is it really such a bad idea? We are going to be busy with the babies, but Henry is capable…"

"Henry's only here part-time," Emma pointed out. "What about when he's at Regina's? Who's going to walk and feed the dog then? We both work, Killian. I can't be taking off in the middle of the day to walk a dog around and hope that he or she pees and poops in time to get me back to work to go catch a bad guy." She pursed her lips together. "Why are you asking me this? Regina and I have both already rejected the idea. I can't believe Henry's still pushing."

Killian looked downward. "I may have had a conversation with the lad about it," he said. "He wants this very much, Emma. I wanted to be the one who could…"

Emma nodded knowingly. "You wanted to win a few points with your step-son by convincing me to get a dog. Was this your idea or Henry's?"

"I approached him," Killian admitted sheepishly. "Robin is going to speak to Regina, as we were thinking that perhaps we could…"

Emma snorted again. "Maybe we could share a dog like we share a son? Really, Killian?"

He again wore the sheepish expression, folding his arms on the table and leaning forward. "Robin wasn't hopeful about persuading the queen," he admitted. "It was just an idea. I thought that a dog would be something that every boy wants and needs, but I suppose you are right that it too much for us to take on at this juncture in our lives."

She let out a half sigh and half groan as one of the babies seemed to kick her in a rib instead of the more familiar and gentle taps she had been used to feeling. "He really wants this," she repeated softly, rubbing her hand along the side of her abdomen. "Regina's going to think I said yes only because she said no. You realize that, right? She's always accusing me of trying to buy Henry's affections. I don't think she's even gotten over the fact that I'm giving Henry the bug to learn to drive on."

Killian watched with concern as she mulled over the idea in her head. "He's a good lad, but he's probably always going to play the two of you off each other. It's the way boys are, love. But in this case I think he just wants a dog."

She took another long sip and groaned. "Seriously, instead of the warnings they give about pregnancy they give on alcohol and condom packaging, I'm thinking they should mention that your bladder will never be the same. God forbid I sneeze." She settled the cup back into the saucer, something she rarely pulled out the cabinets. He was old fashioned though and never considered not using the matching saucers. "Are you going to help him with this dog? I mean walk him or her? Feeding? Making sure the dog chews the chew toy and not the furniture? Are you going to…"

"Yes, love," Killian said, rounding the table to plant a kiss on her lips. "I shall do all that I can to help the boy with his new addition. It will be good practice for the babies."

Emma rolled her eyes, pushing herself to a standing position. "You do realize there is a huge difference in holding a leash and changing a diaper? There's also a difference in filling a dish with dog food and bottle feeding an infant?"

"Of course, love," he said, smiling brightly and intently. He could see the resolve in her weakening and he was already thinking of the look on Henry's face when they delivered this bit of news. "I will do whatever I can."

"Because I refuse to do this while I'm pregnant or caring for two screaming infants. I don't want to do it." She gave him her best stern expression. "And I get final say on the breed and name. I don't want any pirate references."


	23. Chapter 23

**_I feel like I'm falling behind, but here is a new chapter of my fic. I thought it was some time for a little mother daughter bonding especially with how tense their relationship is on the show right now. Thank you for all the kind reviews and encouragement with this story. I smile with each new notification. _**

Henry actually looked younger than his teenage years as he crouched down in front of the next dog the shelter volunteer brought out for him. His eyes were wide with excitement and his monosyllabic answers were replaced with jubilant words of praise for each and every puppy, dog, and breed that was even mentioned. Killian was nearly as bad, she judged, as he was laughing uproariously with each thump of a tail or misguided lick that the canines gifted in the process.

"You don't seem very excited," Emma's mother said, lowering herself onto the bench beside her daughter. "I thought you'd be down there with them."

The search for the perfect addition to the Swan-Jones household had become a group effort. Emma had insisted that they keep the pursuit limited to the local shelter, which Killian and Henry readily agreed was the right thing. Then Emma had suggested that maybe David would be a good resource with his memories of early Storybrooke including animal care. That had meant he was bringing Neal along, who was even more excited and hyper than any of the others. Upon discussing the situation with Regina, it was decided that Robin should be a part of the decision too, which meant another young child would be there in the form of Roland.

"I think the dogs are overstimulated enough," Emma proclaimed, explaining that she was the deciding vote only. She did not need to be up close and personal with each of them. "It appears to have turned into a guy thing."

Mary Margaret nodded with a grin. "Male bonding with animals," she said. "It's likely to get messy." She turned her expression to her young son who was bouncing in David's arms and screaming words like puppy and aww. She wondered briefly if her husband would be making a plea in a moment. "I think it's great how they bring each one out so that the families can decide. So much better than seeing them all in their cages and pens."

A sad look came over Emma, her eyes cast down and her hands folding and refolding over her protruding stomach. "I guess," she said without much conviction.

"Emma?" he mother asked, whipping her gaze back over to her daughter. "Is something wrong? If you don't want to adopt a dog, now would be a good time to say it before they pick one out."

Emma lifted her shoulders a bit in a shrug and shook her head. "It's fine. This is what Henry and Killian want." Her eyes seemed to glow with the soft and muted colors of her shirt though the buttons pulled a little tight around her middle. She was not even wearing her trademark boots, replacing them with a pair of slip on shoes that were much more comfortable in her condition. Her wedding ring shone on her finger, catching the light from overhead.

Mary Margaret pursed her lips thoughtfully, letting her daughter shrink a bit under the gaze. "What's bothering you? I know that you're worried that a dog will be extra work, but this is more than that."

Frowning at her folded hands, Emma crossed her legs at her ankles. "I didn't always have a foster family to live with," she said, not looking at her mother who usually cringed at her daughter's memories of that life. "I lived in group homes. Most of the time the social workers would assign us a new home to live in, but sometimes they made us meet the families. They brought us into a room one at a time or sometimes three or four at a time. It was like this. You went in and smiled and pretended to be this happy, normal kid so they would pick you. And afterward, they would pick another child because you weren't quite what they pictured when they thought about a family."

"Oh Emma," her mother said, reaching a hand out to caress her arm. "I'm so sorry."

"The thing was, you didn't know if you were the lucky one or not," Emma continued to explain. "You didn't know if the family was good or bad. You might have caught a break by not having to go with them, but it didn't feel like that at the moment. You just felt bad for being rejected."

Her mother's concerned glance was more than Emma could take as she lifted her hands to her face and wiped away the tears that were starting to fall. She did not blame her mother, as they had been through this discussion or ones like it before. It was hard to hear that their daughter had grown up in such a way. Emma could claim to be numb to it, not surprised by the facts and history, but to them it was a shard in their hearts each time they learned of something.

"I would have…" Mary Margaret's voice cracked. She cleared her throat. "I would have picked you."

"I know, Mom," Emma said with a small smile. "I know." She gave one more swipe at her face. "Come on. Let's go figure out which dog is about to become a Jones. And if I'm reading Dad and Neal's expressions right, which one will be a Nolan."

***KESC***

"It's like demanding tribute," Emma grumbled as she and her mother walked down the aisle of the one and only baby store in Storybrooke. She had little experience in such situations and locations, but Emma had to admit that the cramped quarters of the corner shop were nothing compared to the megastores where she had shopped for gifts in New York and Boston. Everything appeared to be outdated and a bit old fashioned for her tastes.

"People want to give you presents for the babies," Mary Margaret insisted. "They talk about it all the time. What do you need? What do you want? Isn't it adorable?" The teacher's voice broke off as she saw a display of receiving blankets with different cartoon versions of the fairy tale characters on them. "Oh Emma, aren't these perfect?"

Emma curled her fingers around the stack and smiled. "They are cute, but it is weird. What am I supposed to read to my children anyway? The versions of fairy tales in this world are very different from the lives you guys have led. It might confuse them."

Her mother rolled her eyes and shifted to a set of blankets in pastels and benign patterns that would not cause her daughter to balk. She carefully lifted them and held them in front of Emma. "These aren't fairy tale characters. Put them on the list for both of us."

"You know outside of Storybrooke, they have these little gun things where you scan the item and it makes out an entire list for you. I think it even suggests things that you miss." She jotted down a number for the blankets and gestured for her mother to put them back. "It's easier."

"Maybe so," her mother said, moving to the next items. The pattern continued for a while, Mary Margaret picking out items and Emma wrinkling her nose and then conceding. They had sorted through bottles, rattles, diaper genies, mobiles, made headway on a picking a stroller and even settled on cribs. Emma was searching through a pile of mismatched crib sheets that were on sale when she saw the other woman lower herself into one of the gliders that matched the cribs she had just picked out for the twins.

"So can I ask why Dad isn't on this shopping trip with you?" she pondered, pulling up a navy blue sheet with yellow stars. Holding it up like one would a dress and inspecting it in the light, she let out a short self-deprecating laugh. "I have no idea what I'm looking for here. It's a sheet. It's not a major purchase." She tossed the item into the buggy that was littered with products that Mary Margaret had said they needed but didn't need to place on the registry.

"He's working so you can be here," her mother reminded her. "Besides. I think all this baby stuff might be a little overboard for him. Don't get me wrong. He's happy about the baby, but he struggles with the whole fatherhood thing. We have a track record. You were only with us for a few minutes. Neal got kidnapped by a crazy woman after a few minutes. He worries that something will happen this time."

Cursing her center of gravity being off, Emma leaned forward into the bin and pulled out another sheet. "None of those things are his fault," she said. "He knows that."

"Still doesn't stop him from worrying." Mary Margaret ran her fingers over the wood arms of the chair. "I worry too. I know everyone thinks I'm nuts and just excited about a new baby and all the bows and toys and bath times, but I worry. I haven't done this fully in this realm before. It's different. I haven't had baby showers and Lamaze classes. I haven't been able to register for baby things. And I haven't ever been able to share this time with my daughter. It's strange, but it is the life we have right now. So that's kind of special to me."

Emma grinned at her mother. "I'm worried too," she said, standing up straight and now holding four of the sheets that she threw into the cart. "I may have been through this before, but it was different. I didn't have anyone there with me. I was in jail. They don't really do baby showers in jail. While I have those fake memories from Regina, the truth is that I never held Henry after he was born. I just couldn't. And now I'm about to have two babies who I'm going to have to take home and raise. That's really scary to me."

"You have Killian," her mother said. "And despite the fact that he turns white every time you groan with a pain or if someone mentions changing a diaper, I think that he's going to do his best to be a good daddy."

Emma pulled out another sheet, this time one with Mickey and Minnie Mouse on it. "I think so too," she said with a smile. "Then I remember that he's Captain Hook. My mother is married to Prince Charming and I get Captain Hook. Seriously, this is all kinds of messed up."

***KECS***

If there was one thing that Emma hated about her pregnancy – well there were a few – it was the heightened sense of smell that often left her nauseous and grumbling. She'd sent a bewildered Killian and Henry out to the balcony of the apartment more than a dozen times when they insisted on eating something that disagreed with her. She'd changed laundry soap four times and even threatened Killian within an inch of his life when he brought home a pumpkin spice candle that she would have normally loved.

Emma knew it was going to be one of those evenings when Henry came bounding down the stairs of the apartment to help carry in the bags of baby equipment that had been bought rather than placed on the registry. She could smell the dog's treats on him, a cross between pork chops and bacon that made her stomach flip uncomfortably. But she faked a smile and carried two of the lighter bags behind him as she entered the apartment to the sight of her husband laying on the floor at eye level with the golden brown dog with paws too big for his body and a tail that should have come with a warning label.

Dropping the bags on the couch, Emma delicately put her hand in front of her face and pretended that she did not notice the scent. They had obviously been trying and perhaps succeeding in working with the newest member of the family on a few commands. That required and explained the treats that were scattered on the ground, including one that her son had stepped on and ground into the carpet. She closed her eyes and thought of the mess that was creating.

"You're back already, love?" Killian asked from his spot on the floor. "I thought your mother might demand more of your time to shop."

Glancing at the clock on the mantle that had been a wedding gift from someone she couldn't remember at the moment, she shook her head. "I've been gone for six hours," she said.

He pushed himself up with one hand, something she always appreciated and crossed over to her with a grin. "In that case I should welcome you home better than just a hello from the floor." He placed his hand along her jaw, his thumb rubbing her cheek and his pinky on the underside of her neck. Kissing her chastely, so as not to upset Henry, he smiled. "How was shopping with your mother?"

"Exhausting," she said. "I think we're almost done with the registry though. Just a few things left for you and me to decide on like the stroller. Do we want to get two or a double one?" She almost laughed at the confused expression on his face in light of the question and promised to show him some pictures later to help reach a decision. "My mom is pretty amazing. She picked out things that we need that I didn't even know we needed."

"She's quite a determined lass," he said, nodding appreciatively. "I could have used her on the Jolly Roger to help keep order. She'd have been a natural."

Emma giggled, a sound that Killian would readily admit was not a natural one for her. "You think my mother could have kept a bunch of pirates in line?" she asked. "I'm not sure I can picture that."

"Have you seen your mother in the classroom, love?" he waggled his eyebrows. "She would have crew cleaning every inch of the ship and reciting their composition assignments as they did it."

She giggled again at the thought. "Well, why don't we leave Henry to clean up after Shady," Emma said, pointing to her son who was busy trying to teach the young golden retriever how to shake his paw, "and you can help me sort through all this stuff for the nursery."

"As you wish," Killian said, looping a few of the bags over his hook. "There is perhaps something for you to see in the nursery."

Emma followed wordlessly, her curiosity piqued by his vague innuendo of a surprise. He turned the knob on the door and bounced it open with a hit from his hip to reveal the freshly painted room. That in itself was not a surprise, though he had tried to make it one earlier. The scent of the fresh paint had given him away and sent them to Granny's for the night as the fumes dissipated with the windows left open in the cold. No, it was the two matching gliders that were just like the ones Mary Margaret had been sitting in earlier at the store that made Emma stop in her tracks.

"Killian?" he asked, her voice trembling. "What on earth?"

"Your mother said they were to go with the cribs. We thought two might be in order since we have two babies on the way and this way we can each rock our children to sleep." He dropped the bags he was carrying down and paused just behind one of the chairs. "She wasn't sure if you liked the style, but I thought they would look nice and they feel comfortable."

"I love them," Emma said, quirking an eyebrow at him. "You didn't even have to build them."

"Aye," Killian said with a smirk. "Your mother introduced me to a convenient little service that had two young men deliver and assemble them for us. She said it might just be the key to a long a happy marriage."


	24. Chapter 24

Killian had to admit that sleeping in a frozen tundra was not exactly what he had expected when Emma had said their lives would change with her pregnancy. He'd heard about the cravings, the mood swings, and even the odd and random aches and pains. However, Emma's constant and extreme temperature fluctuations were not on his radar. She was always feeling warm, always complaining that someone had snuck over and turned the thermostat off her preferred temperature. Henry and Killian had both given way to her demands in that regard, the young lad wearing cable knit sweaters in the heat of early summer.

Wrapped in two blankets and the comforter, Killian peeked out from his cocoon and watched this wife's sleeping form rise and fall with a steady cadence he had learned was her standard for sleep. While he was swathed in flannel and fleece, her soft and faded t-shirt was bunched over her stomach and a pair of shorts sat low on her hips. He could see clearly the tight skin of her abdomen stretched over their growing children.

His hand snaked out from beneath the covers, moving on its own accord and ran lightly over her skin. He had no intention of waking her, but risked the possibility as he felt one of the babies kick in response to his gentle touch. Emma complained that the twins were kick boxing or his favorite, Irish dancing, inside her, but he saw the way she would smile when nobody was paying attention. Her own hand running along the swell and attempted to prod a reaction out of them.

She shifted a little, her head rolling on the pillow that David had bought for both her and Mary Margaret that had a cooling pad in it. He was not sure how that worked, but she had called it a marvel and he'd been inclined to agree. Anything that made her smile was fine by him.

He still marveled at her condition, the fact that there were two babies growing inside her seemed unfathomable when he considered that he was the father. He'd had a hard enough time with the realization that Emma was his wife, something he had not even dared to consider possible until he had found himself negotiating for a ring and planning to propose. Even in his attempts and determination to win her heart, he'd always thought she would eventually see through him and leave him as quickly as she had come to love him. Permanence was never something he had considered possible. But she had said yes, not run screaming away from him, and now had settled into a life with him.

"Are you seriously trying to wake me up?" she asked, one eye open and the other blocked from his vision by her arm folded over her head. "Because seriously in a few months when these two are here, we're never going to sleep again."

He grinned at her sleepy expression, hooded eyes and pink cheeks. "You act as though I'm going to conspire against you," he teased. "The babies and I are going to devise some scheme to rob you of your slumber?"

"You acting like that's a joke doesn't make me feel as guilty about the dreams I've been having," she laughed, letting her free hand join his. His raised eyebrow questioned her vague statement and made her laugh. "I've been having some pretty violent dreams lately. Some really scary ones."

His lower lip jutted out in sympathy. "And you feel guilty about your nightmares?"

The corners of her mouth lifted into a smirk. "They aren't scary for me. It's scarier for you. You see each of them are about me killing you. I'm pretty creative in my sleep." She looked quite proud of herself as he fought his blankets to prop himself up for a better look at her face to see if she was serious. "I've shot you, stabbed you, hung you, and even let the dog eat you."

"You've put a lot of thought into this," he said a bit nervously when her hand gripped over his and kept him in place. "They are just dreams, are they not?"

"So far," she said, her smirk growing wider. "I will tell you my favorite was making you walk the plank with the sharks circling. Your screams were pretty good."

"Such a little tease. I never knew you had this much violence in you, love."

She scoffed, moving his hand an inch to where one of the twins seemed to be saying hello against her skin. "I held a knife to your throat the first day we met," she said. "How could you not know?"

"That was before my charms had a way of working on you. I was relying on only my devilishly handsome good looks, which you later succumbed to after a valiant fight." He leaned over to brush his lips on hers, smiling against her before pulling back. "I suppose if you're contemplating my death that you're not quite as susceptible to me as I had hoped."

Her eyes rolled upward as she laughed at his pitiful expression. "I think the evidence of my feelings for you is very much on display."

***KECS***

Mary Margaret wiped the table for the third time that morning and eyed the tile floor of her kitchen for any sign of the round cereal that Neal might have dropped. The books called this phase nesting and she was certainly a victim of it. David had threatened to move into Granny's if she vacuumed while he watched television or if watching a laundry detergent commercial reminded her that there were currently two shirts in their hamper with stains setting in as they spoke.

He said nothing as he entered the room, tucking his shirt into his belted jeans and watching her scrub at a spot on the table that only she could see.

"It'll pass," she said, tossing the dish rag in the sink and then walking over to hang it before the lump of cloth bothered her more than the original dirt. "It's just a phase."

He kissed her temple as he pulled her tight against him. "You don't have to explain it to me," he said. "Just apologize to Leroy and the others about the fact that you've changed your mind on the paint color for the nursery. They spent hours on that shade of yellow for you to decide that you want green. I think Leroy may be asking for more than a cold bottle of beer as payment."

She could have argued about wanting everything to be perfect, but that was wearing thin. "I'll make them dinner," she promised. "Something they'll all like."

David paused in midstride as he saw his son on the rug in front of the couch, a row of cars lined up in front of him. "He's still at it?" he pondered.

The brunette mother nodded her head, sidling up to her husband and leaning her head onto his shoulder. "All last night and again this morning. I think it's becoming an obsession. Our son may become an engineer or a race car driver." She beamed proudly as he pushed two of them together with a crash and a giggle.

"Or a mechanic. Or a used car salesman?" David added, leaning his cheek onto her head. "Whatever he becomes, we'll be proud."

"Of course."

***KECS***

Granny and Ruby shared a two bedroom apartment on the back side of the bed and breakfast, a cozy and convenient space that was perfect for running the two businesses. Emma had rarely seen inside of it, but it was clearly decorated by Granny with small bunches of flowers in small vases on side tables and glass figurines of various woodland creatures settled around the room. However, it was not all cute and feminine, as there were framed photographs of Granny on hunting trips and a crossbow sat propped against the wall next to a cushion covered rocking chair.

Ruby was sitting cross legged on the floor on one side of an oval shaped coffee table with both expectant mothers side by side on the other side. Various print outs of decorations, party games, party favors, and food were scattered and Ruby was pouring over her phone and looking for bookmarked items for the party. Emma had questioned why the town's quintessential bachelorette was so enthusiastic about planning a double baby shower, but Mary Margaret had explained to her daughter that Ruby was hoping to go out on her own with party planning and catering services.

"It is a stork," Ruby said proudly, pointing out the picture on her phone. "It's awesome." The cake on the screen must have stood nearly four feet high with cake, icing and fondant.

"How would you cut that?" Emma asked, her face twisting in confusion. "How is it even standing?"

"Those legs are awfully thin," Mary Margaret added, a bit more tactfully than her daughter. "Are they cake?"

"Dowels," Ruby said, sighing in exasperation. She flashed a look at the dubious expressions on both women's faces. "I can do it. I know I can."

Emma wrinkled her nose a bit. "It's a little obvious for a baby shower," she said, pushing her feet under the table and locking one ankle over the other. "I was thinking maybe more low key."

"I hate to tell you, but I think everyone knows you're pregnant," Ruby announced, looking pointedly from one protruding belly to the other. "And a baby shower…storks are sort of a requirement."

"I think it's lovely," Mary Margaret said, reaching over and squeezing her daughter's hand to encourage her silence. "But maybe we should do a regular sheet cake too. Just in case…Just in case it is too cute to eat. I wouldn't want to destroy it." She smiled at what she hoped was a good excuse.

Ruby looked skeptical, but wrote down sheet cake on her notepad. "Then let's talk about food. I'm guessing crustless sandwiches and veggie trays?" Her hands busily sorted for a few more pictures. "Granny's got a great punch recipe and we can have soda and water."

Emma cleared her throat. "Can we maybe have Mexican?" She sounded like she was whining, but she had been craving it for two weeks now. Killian had raided every item from Granny's menu for her from huevos rancheros in the morning to bacon and cheese quesadillas for dinner. She snacked on chips and salsa and the local grocery store ran out of avocados (they usually only stocked one or two) when she started putting guacamole on everything. Henry had shared a few heated burritos with her during a 3 a.m. session where she had been watching infomercials and threatening to order some robotic machine for vacuuming after she'd spent a few hours cleaning up after a shedding dog.

Ruby wrote it down and made a comment that it might work since quesadillas did not have crusts. She looked to Mary Margaret for support, but was rebuffed when the woman began sharing a recipe for bean and cheese dip that she claimed was completely authentic.

***KECS***

David sighed with a bit of frustration as his son, his pride and joy, barreled through the partially assembled crib pieces like a racer crashing through the finish line. The pieces of perfectly fitted wood clattered to the ground and earned a questioning, "what's going on up there?" from his wife.

"Neal," he said warningly. "I thought we had a deal, son."

The boy looked none too guilty as he grabbed one of the shorter pieces and pumped his legs hard to run away from his father into the hallway and toward the gate guarded stairwell. David pulled himself to standing and chased after him, arriving at the stairs just as his son heaved the piece over the gate where it rattled and bounced down the stairs, landing at Mary Margaret's feet.

"Building project going well?" she asked, stooping carefully to pick it up. "I could call Marco."

He grimaced, unsure if it was male pride or the fact the man had built the vessel that had carried his daughter off to another realm that caused him to be a tad distrustful about a crib. He'd relied on the man to build a playset, a wall of frames, and even the new banquette in the dining room, but a crib seemed different.

"Maybe you could keep an eye out on Neal?" he asked, eyeing his wife to see which cleaning project she had started most recently. The feather duster in her hand told him all he needed to know. "He could probably do some of the low work for you. You know how he loves to help." Hoisting the boy up into his arms, he stepped over the gate and descended the stairs to deposit his son on the floor and a kiss on his wife's waiting lips.

"I could call Killian," she said, still in her helpful and problem solving mode.

"I refuse the help of an expert carpenter and furniture builder and you think I'd rather have the assistance of a one handed pirate?" He chuckled, remembering that Emma had explained that Henry had assembled what the dwarfs had not finished, as Killian tended to get so angry and frustrated that he'd put two holes in the wall with a hammer.

Mary Margaret ran a quick hand down his arm and smiled lovingly. "I'm glad you're home," she said. "I know it's been tough with Emma on limited duty."

"Glad to be here too," he said. "I'm even glad I got invited to your baby shower."

The woman wrinkled her nose, looking very much like her daughter. "I am not a big fan of these showers where men come, but Ruby and Emma were on board so there you have it. Though I guess we have to change some of the games. The ones like losing a point when you cross your legs or stories of horrors of breast feeding are out."

"I'll work on my stories," he laughed. "I think you're going to be surprised. Killian and I are going clean up in these games. I hear there is one where you change a diaper with one hand. He's got that down."

She rolled her eyes and guided her son toward the other room. "Back to work, Charming. Our baby is going to need a place to sleep."


	25. Chapter 25

David's arms were full with his son and four shopping bags as he kicked the truck door closed and looked with exasperation at his son-in-law. "You could help, you know?" he muttered.

Killian sighed and held up the bags and packages he was holding, including three that were looped over his hook. "We could also have taken two trips, but you were the one who wanted to do this all in one."

Huffing, David led the way up the stairs to the Jones's apartment with a grumble about this being Killian's fault anyway. Emma, who had moved on from her craving of all things chocolate to cravings involving salt and vinegar, had been complaining that the cupboards were bare of her favorite foods. Even Mary Margaret, who was usually more even keeled than her daughter, was irritable in the summer heat and complained that she too was hungry for something different than the selections offered. While David was hoping to let the moment pass, as many of the pregnancy induced whims often did, Killian had jumped up and volunteered both husbands for shopping duty. David had assumed that it was to avoid the other jobs that Emma had assigned them that day, including the finishing touches on the nursery and a new bed for the dog. Assembly projects seemed to be the least favorite task of the pirate.

"I'm sure they will be very thankful," Killian commented, managing to get the door open without dropping any of the items. He immediately shivered upon entering the space. As usual, Emma had cranked up the air conditioning as she and Mary Margaret were seated in front of dueling fans with ice cold drinks in their hands. Dropping the bags on the table in the kitchen, Killian moved to drop a kiss onto his wife's temple. "Comfortable?" It was a loaded question since she rarely said yes, always complaining of some ache or pain or the heat in general. She smiled pleasantly though and told him she was fine. Dropping the bag of salt and vinegar potato chips that she had requested toward her, he flinched as she grimaced.

"Not the right kind?" he asked, slightly hurt that she pushed them away.

"No, it's what I wanted, but I'm kind of thinking barbecue now." Killian and David did not miss a beat as Killian picked up the bag and David replaced it with the barbecue ones that they had picked up as well.

It was Henry who tossed both men sweatshirts to wear in the apartment, the battle lines over the thermostat already drawn long before. Emma shot death glares at anyone who went near it and whined incessantly when someone dared to question the temperature. So while she wore shorts and sleeveless shirts over her pregnant form, Killian and others donned extra socks, sweatshirts and the occasional overcoat.

David settled his son down with a game and Henry as Killian put away the groceries. He was trying to ignore the obviously Nicholas Sparks inspired movie on the television screen. Emma's lower lip was already trembling and Mary Margaret was dabbing at her eyes with tissues to blot out her silent tears. He knew it was a matter of moments before both women were emotionally spent and he would spend hours convincing Mary Margaret that he was not going to head off to war and leave her with two small children and neither of the women were going to die in childbirth.

Leaning in conspiratorially toward Killian, David chuckled. "We did buy more tissues, right?"

"Aye," Killian answered in a low whisper. "It might have been more efficient to buy a bucket and a sponge. I don't understand the crying. It isn't just sad things either. Henry got the answers right while playing along with some game on the television device and Emma cried for 15 minutes over how smart he's become."

David nodded empathetically. "Snow's gotten to the point that she cried the other day when she slept through the dryer buzzing. She was upset that the towels might be wrinkled."

"What are you two gossiping about?" Mary Margaret called, uncharacteristically testy. She craned her neck back to look at them upside down. "I don't want to hear any complaints from the two of you about anything."

"Just thinking about what to make you ladies for lunch," Killian said, sliding easily into a lie as Henry bit back a laugh. "Any requests?"

***KECS***

Killian had been around enough celebrations to know that Granny's was the one and only locale for such events. If it was not at Granny's then people met there before or after. If the food was not from Granny's then at least dessert was a part of it. So the joint baby shower for Emma and Mary Margaret was no exception. The proprietress closed early, claiming she didn't know why since the whole town was planning to show up anyway.

While Emma was not fond of the crepe paper and overly girly decorations for the shower, she had admitted to Killian that the gesture was nice. Such events were not part of his past, nor were they something that Emma was really familiar with either. "I usually wasn't close enough friends to bother going to these things," Emma told him when he asked what exactly were they getting themselves into. "There will be food and presents."

"Your father said men are not always included." He was not actually trying to get out of the situation, but he had heard his father-in-law's complaints. "I'm not going to be the only man there, am I?"

"Dad will be there. Henry said no way in hell. I think Philip is coming with Aurora and Thomas with Ashley. I'm not sure. There will be other guys."

She could tell he was worried though when they entered through the door into a pink and blue wonderland with ribbons, bows, stork decorations, presents with hug bows, bowls of mints and nuts, punch in two different colors and flavors, cupcakes with either pink or blue booties, Ruby's stork cake that stands a little crooked, and a plethora of other items. His jaw dropped a bit and he looked at her for reassurance and confirmation, which she gave with a squeeze of his hand before people descended upon her.

Even people who had just seen her the day before were hugging her, winking and telling her that she looked ready to pop. Whoever decided that anything was appropriate to say to a pregnant woman was a rude and inconsiderate person. People touched her stomach, made comments about the puffiness of her face and asked about names.

"Should I try to dissuade the next group?" Killian asked during a quiet moment. He was not without his own throng of questions about how he was holding up and even if he was planning to be in the delivery room. "I might could distract them while you get away."

"They brought presents," Emma's mother declared with a bit of a sour tone. "You can't ignore them and pretend like they aren't here."

Killian watched his wife's face carefully, knowing she would likely burst under the strain of polite conversation with people who were hugging and touching her as though she was someone close in their lives. Her voice was tight as she told him it was fine and he should save himself while he still could.

"Nobody is escaping anything," Ruby declared, placing oversized buttons on both Killian and Emma's shoulders. Reading mom and dad, the buttons seemed a bit obvious, especially in Emma's case, but Ruby was insistent and chased down the other two parents with matching ones. "I put too much work into this."

She truly had. There were three four tier diaper cakes for the babies lining the tables with appetizers. Games were set up to play, including dropping clothes pins into baby bottles while standing in chairs and something crazy with cotton balls, a blindfold and a bowl. There were tea lights and glittery rocks on the tables and pastel colored table cloths with lacey overlays. Even the youngest guests were being cared for with a box of toys that had been overturned and spread out on a colorful rug that was designated as the children's area. In yet another area guests were decorating onesies for the new babies.

David seemed to be eyeing these games with a competitive eye, whispering in hushed with Robin who had been dragged there by Regina. Pushed away by Emma who was trying her best to remain cheerful and open to the guests' questions and comments without him, Killian joined them and they began challenging each other in a way that only men who are both bored and forced into a situation can do. When Emma and Mary Margaret were served their punch and cupcakes, both women giggled as they watched their husbands and Robin turn the clothes pin game into a near death match. The men had to be persuaded to join their wives again as the presents were distributed.

David struggled to keep Neal from opening each of his mother's presents, as the boy was convinced anything in bright paper or a bag was for him. Killian felt useful when a guest used too much tape since he could cut through it with his hook. There are plenty of comments about him learning to use things like baby slings and diaper genies. Emma smiled sympathetically and loudly announced that she would be learning along side him.

The mothers stacked their gifts of blankets and outfits that made everyone squeal from the cuteness. There were toys and pacifiers, strollers that would hold two babies or toddlers, sheets for the cribs, hand stitched needlework for the walls, photo frames for those milestone moments and bath sets that were bigger than most people's bathtubs. Killian and David were not left out of the gifts. Robin and Regina gave the men identical digital cameras. Granny provided them with recipe books of baby friendly foods. There were even hats and t-shirts proclaiming their roles in the babies' lives from grandfather and father to ones for Emma and Killian that called them brother and sister of the Nolans's new addition. Some people brought toys and stuffed animals for Neal and Regina said that she had bought a new gaming system for Henry to avoid any jealousy on his part though she suspected none.

"We have to fit all this back at the apartment," Killian said, marveling over the modern accessories that were said to make it easier with two babies. He still wasn't sure how this was supposed to work or even if he was up to the task. Emma swore they could do it, but each day his doubts remained.

***KECS***

Emma felt as though she had been pregnant for more than year, her back ached and she had not seen her feet in months. Simple things that she had taken for granted seemed impossible. Killian had found her in tears over the task of reaching a glass in the cabinet when she was on her tiptoes but her stomach did not allow her to get close enough to the shelf. When he easily completed the task, she practically threw the glass at him.

Then there was her magic, which had never been completely under control. A simple sneeze may have tested her bladder control, but with her magic it could make rain clouds appear in the apartment or in one case made a fire burn in the fireplace.

Even her dreams seemed out of control. She dreamed such vivid hallucinations that she woke up crying because she had left the babies some place and couldn't find them. She dreamed that she and Killian had a fight over something and woke up so angry at him that she refused to speak to him for a good hour before she realized it had been just a dream.

"Your mother seems to want our daughter to have the name Ava or Ruth," Killian said, thumbing through the book that Belle had loaned them from the library. While they had been throwing out baby names for weeks, the urgency seemed to be growing.

"Henry seems to like the idea of Henrietta so she'll be named after him," Emma said, shifting again as a pain in the lower part of her back began to gnaw at her incessantly. "We could go with something that isn't a family name though. Maybe Rachel or Kimberly." She grimaced. She didn't like those names either.

"Perhaps the name for the lad will be easier," he suggested, frowning at her grimace. "I rather liked your idea the other night."

"You just liked it because it was your name for a little while," she teased. She had thrown out the name Charles, which had made both of them smile at the memory of an unknown prince and princess dancing at a royal ball in the past. "We could name him after you, you know. It isn't a bad idea."

"I would prefer our son have his own identity and not be tied to mine and my mistakes." He groaned as he stretched and then pulled her closer to him as they both stared at the book's pages. "I want them both to have strong names."

She settled against his side, looking down at her stomach as though the unborn babies might pipe up and give their own suggestions. "Something strong?" she questioned aloud. "Like Maximus or something? Hercules?"

"Maybe we should name her Emma," he said. "You're the strongest woman I know."

"Don't," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You're not going to get on my good side."

***KECS***

David fell against the bed and rubbed his hands over his face with a dramatic exhale of breath. "Tell me again why it isn't a good idea to drug the kid so he'll fall asleep?"

"Rough one?" Mary Margaret asked, her back against the stack of pillows and some novel that Belle had recommended open on her protruding belly. "I guess you're regretting that statement that you could handle it."

"I've handled plenty of things," David said, looking at her though his splayed hands. "I can slay a dragon, take on dark knights, chase down a jewelry stealing bandit, but our son is a menace when it comes to bed times."

"You have to show him who is boss," his wife said, clucking sympathetically as she placed a bookmark in her book. Emma had shown her the latest in tablets and e-readers, but she still preferred the old fashioned way of reading.

"I'm thinking we should probably stop after this one," David said, looking pointedly at his wife. "Any more kids and we'll be outnumbered."

"You say that now," she said, adjusting a pillow and sinking down into the bed. "But think how great it is going to be to have another little baby around."

"We're grandparents," he argued.

"The curse," she shot back.

"Doesn't change the fact that our children are both younger than one of their nephews."

"We can't change that," Mary Margaret said. "And it doesn't really matter. We're a family. We love each other."


	26. Chapter 26

"I put the file on him in the drawer labeled ongoing investigations," Emma told her father as she sat up in the bed with her back against the padded headboard. "It's got his name on it."

She could hear David opening the squeaking drawer with an angry grunt and the papers being shuffled on top of that. "There it is," he said gruffly.

She knew that her father was worried about her, as the news from Dr. Whale that she was to immediately stop working and rest more came as somewhat of a surprise. Yes, they had all been aware that it was a distinct possibility with a multiple birth situation, but Emma had been feeling fine and showed none of the symptoms of any sort of distress. So when he had informed the parents-to-be at her last appointment that he was concerned, she had immediately called her father to apologize for leaving him in a lurch.

"It's not like I have been in any condition to chase down a villain," she reminded him. "I barely have the balance to stand with my belly throwing off my center of gravity. And let's face it, I'm not that fast with it either."

"You and my grandchildren are the important things right now," David insisted, brushing off his gruffness for a little more of a caring attitude. "Hook is taking good care of you, right?"

"Of course," Emma insisted. "Let's face it. This whole taking it easy for the baby has me living like a rock star. I get breakfast in bed. I get to control the remote. I can just pout and he brings me whatever I want. It's a total rock star lifestyle except for the lack of traveling and booze."

"And the fact that you have no musical ability," David reminded her. "Thanks for your help. Your mom and I are going to swing by later with Neal if that's okay. She's worried about you and we know she isn't going to stop until she actually sees that you are fine and not secretly in labor."

Emma laughed. "No secret labor here," she said, running her hand along the outline of her shirt. "I think everyone in town will hear me screaming when it is time for that."

She gave him a few more tidbits on the files she had been working on and where he could find her notes. Admitting to herself that at least it felt good to contribute in that way, she was smiling a satisfied smirk by the time she disconnected the call and saw Killian come in with the book that she had wanted and could not find.

"Where was it?" she asked him, greedily reaching for it and turning her face up for a kiss at the same time. He reciprocated on both counts and threw himself on the bed beside her, fully clothed.

"You had returned it to the library," he told her. "Belle said it's been on the shelf for at least two weeks."

The blonde frowned and then softened her expression as she ran her fingers over his forehead and brushed back the dark hair. "I could have sworn…" she broke off. "You didn't have to go to all that trouble."

He gave her a look that said he didn't believe her. "You would have still wanted it," he said. "A book is the least troublesome of your requests." His work at the docks seemed to be a bit slow and he had brought some of the paperwork home with Henry's help to be able to do from there. Though she told him that she was fine, he'd insisted that he wanted to be around as much as possible and it wasn't simply to police her. Though sometimes it felt that way. "Did you drink?"

One of Dr. Whale's concerns had been dehydration, which he said could be quite dangerous for her in her condition. Killian had become hyper vigilant over the amount of water she ingested daily. She had been a bit annoyed at it at first, but used his questions as a way to show off her magic since it was the easiest type to make water appear. He would tease her about it, but she had to admit that it came in handy in the middle of the night when her throat was parched and she did not have to get up or wake him to get her another glass. "Of course," she told him, waving her hand over the empty glass on the bedside table. It quickly filled to the rim. "See? Self-sufficient."

"That's a good lass," he declared between yawns. She looked at him questioningly. "I'm a little tired."

"Glad to hear you admit it," she said. "You do realize that my being pregnant doesn't make you my servant. It's not a punishment."

He chuckled, his head resting on the pillow by her hip. "I want to do the right things," he said. "So when you say you want or need something…"

"Sometimes I just say things because I do," she said. "I appreciate how attentive you've been, but seriously it is making me feel guilty. You don't have to do everything. I can still…" She laughed as his gentle snore interrupted her.

***AAA***

Mary Margaret had never felt that kind of tired before, an exhaustion that seemed to radiate from her bones and through her body with alarmingly accurate precision. Even her smallest finger felt too tired to lift as she collapsed into the overstuffed chair with the ottoman and grunted her approval for David's suggestion for dinner. He had wanted to go to Emma and Killian's, but she had overruled, which shocked both of them.

Leaning against the door frame, he peered at her with a concerned expression and worry. "Are you sure you're feeling alright?" He was rubbing his hands on a towel, throwing it a bit haphazardly over his shoulder and toeing one of Neal's toy trucks of out of the path between the couch and the kitchen.

"I'm just tired," she said, throwing one leg up and groaning when it did not quite reach the ottoman. "And thirsty. It's like I can't get enough to drink."

He took his cue and dashed into the kitchen, bringing back a large bottle of water that he had opened for her. She did not even bother with a thank you or a comment before she began to chug it down like he had just found her in the desert. He placed the back of his hand against her forehead and tried to see if she was warm, a gesture she shook off. "You look…"

"Now is not the time for you to talk about my looks," she said warningly. "I have a toddler and am in my third trimester. Comments about my looks could be considered triggers and work in court if I got caught." She smirked at his shocked expression and tried again to kick her legs up onto the ottoman. He took the hint and lifted them for her, gently sliding off her shoes.

"Snow, I think perhaps we should call…" He frowned as she grimaced in an obvious moment of pain. "Dr. Whale will know if there is something wrong."

"Nothing is wrong," she insisted. "I just overdid it. Give me a few minutes to rest and I'll be fine." She winced again, the sharp pain in her back feeling very much like a knife stabbing her repeatedly.

"You're not fine," David insisted, scooping their son off the floor and avoiding the flailing arms that always preceded his boneless slide of escape. "I'm calling Victor."

She pursed her lips and called him a hypochondriac, reminding him that she had been through this two other times and that it was simply the baby in a different position. He was not listening, holding the phone to his ear with his shoulder and attempting to bounce their son into submission. While he might have been talking about her, she was not on his radar at the moment. She watched him pale as he disconnected the call and then place another quick call, shout whispering into the phone and then shoving it into his pocket.

"Let's go, buddy," he said to Neal, his one armed grip tightening and his other arm reaching out for his wife. "We're taking mommy to see the doctor."

The little boy's face crumbled into a tear filled panic as he beat a fist on David's chest. "No doctor!" It had been a bad choice of words for the prince to use, as his son clearly did not quite understand enough to differentiate between his appointments with shots and his mother. David whispered soothing things to his son as he pleadingly looked at his wife.

The protest she had planned was on her lips, but fell short as the pain enveloped her. She scrunched her face with the intensity of the throbbing and balled her hands into fists. "I think you're right," she said, her breathing labored. "Let's get me to the hospital."

***KECS***

Emma's long thick ponytail was halfway covering Killian's face, his nose buried into the crook of her neck. The sun had not even set yet, but they had both been asleep for more than two hours, enjoying a quiet apartment with Henry at Regina's house and Shady enjoying a new chew toy without much human interaction.

"Phone," he mumbled into her skin, eliciting a proud smile from his wife that he had reduced his name for the device to the one common term. With her eyes closed, she blindly felt for her phone on the nightstand, knocking over her book and a picture frame before her fingers closed around the device.

"Hello?" she muttered, resisting an urge to grunt her greeting instead.

"Emma, something is wrong with your mom," David said. "I know you are supposed to stay on rest right now, but I thought you would want to know." There was screech in the background, obviously coming from Neal. He said something quietly to the little boy and then came back. "I'll call you with updates."

"No, wait," Emma said, flailing to get up to a sitting position. Killian rubbed a hand over his face as he fell off of her shoulder and flat onto the mattress. "I'm not sitting here by the phone. I want to be there for her and the baby."

David offered a protest, a promise that he would call as soon as he knew anything. "It could be minor," he told her. "If there is any reason…"

"That's my mother and my sibling. That's reason enough."

Killian pulled the phone from Emma's hand. He spoke into it briefly and finished the call by saying that he would see to it that Emma was there and safe.

"You aren't going to argue with me?" she asked incredulously as he helped her on with her clothes and her shoes. "No lectures?"

"I have little doubt they would be useless," he answered, standing before her to let her button his shirt. "So we shall go and check on your mother and then we'll get you back to bed."

Her eyes were a bit wild with confusion and gratitude as he led her out of the apartment and to the new car. She only gave him a few instructions and grabbed ahold of the handle twice on the short drive, a much better reaction than the first time he had driven and left the car abandoned in the middle of the road when he gave up.

"She's going to be fine," Emma said as she pushed her way into the waiting room where she found her father pacing with her little brother. She half hugged her father and ran her hand over the little boy's messy hair. "Can I…"

"The doctor is in with her right now," David explained, lowering his son to the floor after several demanding and insistent shouts. "It's a Doctor…" He fumbled for the name of the unfamiliar physician. She realized it was probably that dual life thing again, as he might know who the person was back in Mist Haven, but identities in Storybrooke still posed a problem.

She nodded, feeling Killian's hand on her back as she was led over to the seats and told that she might be there against doctor's orders but she wasn't going to spend the whole time on her feet. Sitting or standing, she felt helpless as she watched her father's worried and pinched expression. He was sputtering over words as he tried to explain the reasoning in taking her to the hospital. The two times she looked at Killian she could see a paleness take over his complexion.

"Thank you," she whispered to him when her father walked over to the information desk and asked again if he could see his wife. Granny and Ruby had arrived to pick up the fussing toddler. Killian's raised eyebrow was his own version of a silent question. "For bringing me here, for not fighting with me about it, for worrying about my mother."

His face scrunched a bit like a child having been caught. "Aye, I do care about you mother's well-being," he admitted quietly. "She's a great lady and of course your mother, which makes her inordinately special. But the truth is I've been more concerned about you. I don't know that I could be as strong as your father is being if something like this happened to you and the babies. I would be a mad man with it."

She cupped his cheek with her hand. "I'm fine and the babies are fine," she said reassuringly. "And my mother will be fine too."

David's footsteps were heavy and uneven as he rushed back to them. "They are…they are letting me go back. She's having a c-section."

Emma's other hand had been gripping Killian and tightened tremendously as she heard. "But she's only 30 weeks. It's too soon."

David was wringing his hands, looking back toward a set of doors for the nurse who was supposed to bring him back. "They said she'll be fine. The baby will be fine…"

"Then they will be," Killian said with more confidence than either father or daughter could muster at that point. "The medicine in this realm is a bloody marvel. They shall be just fine." He was not even sure what all this means or what the repercussions would be for it, but he could feel his wife's hand gripping his so tightly that he knew she needed that reassurance.

A nurse and a technician holding a pair of scrubs motioned to David and he jogged over to join them.

***AAA***

The doctor and nurses are barking orders and moving things around in a room that seemed overly bright and even colder than one could imagine for the dead of summer. There are paper drapes covering almost all of her body, except an opening over her abdomen. Her dark hair was obscured by a paper cap and her face was contorted in panic as David was brought in and told to stand at her side. Like a woman in the box where they saw someone in half for a magic trick, there is a curtain blocking her view from the rest of her body.

"It's too soon," she whispered to David.

He felt helpless, staring down at the panicked eyes. He could not stop this or make the fear go away. Swallowing, he tried to smile and then realized she could not see it through the mask they had put on the lower half of his face. "They know what they're doing. And you're so strong that our baby can't help but be either. Just focus on that. Focus on our little family. This baby is already so lucky and loved. A wonderful big brother who is going to be so excited. And the most wonderful big sister. He or she is going to have two built in playmates with our grandchildren. And Henry is going to be overrun with all these babies. Can't you just see our family dinners? Half the food is going to be pureed and we'll be taking turns eating and feeding a baby."

"It's just so early," Mary Margaret said, grimacing. "The baby's not ready yet."

"He or she is strong," David repeated as the team got into place. "Everything is going to be wonderful."

While her eyes are locked on his, he hazards a look at the doctor who is now holding a small but wiggling and wailing infant. "Congratulations, you are the parents of a beautiful baby girl."


End file.
